November Flowers
by The Crushinator
Summary: A story about the relationship between sisters Petunia and Lily Evans, Witches born to a Muggle family during the first war with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
1. 1971 to 1972

**November Flowers**

**July 1971**

A sticklike blond girl of about twelve watched as her younger sister launched herself off a swing at the height of its arc. Her bright red hair flew like a banner behind her. Like a sheaf of red poppies. Like blood.

In an instant, Petunia Evans imagined her sister with limbs bent the wrong way, sprawled on the dirt and no one around to witness it but her. She'd race to find help but of course she wouldn't find anyone in time, and then her sister would be dead and it would be her fault for not stopping her. What would Mummy say? Her Dad? She bit her lip, head full of unpleasant images as her sister hurtled through the sky.

At the apex of the jump, her sister seemed to hang in the air for a split second. Then, as Petunia watched, heart in her throat, her sister didn't fall so much as drift straight down. She fell like a snowflake, or a leaf, not like the five stone girl she was. Her toes lit on the playground asphalt with the easy grace of a ballerina.

Petunia breathed. Her sister was safe.

That, however, was entirely beside the point.

"Lily!" she shouted. "Mummy said not to do that! It's dangerous!"

Lily grinned. "But I'm fine! Look, Tuney, look at what else I can do!"

She scurried to the edge of the playground, where a great old bush covered in huge red flowers grew. She picked one of the flowers off the ground and held it up to her sister. In her hand, the petals opened and closed again and again, giving the flower the undulating appearance of a strange sea creature.

Petunia pressed her lips together so hard they almost disappeared into her face. Seeing the expression on her sister's face, Lily dropped the flower. It fell limply onto the dirt.

"That's not the _point_," said Petunia. "What if you'd lost control and fallen? You don't even have your wand yet!"

"You have a wand," said Lily, and there was a hint of longing in her voice.

Petunia stood a bit straighter. Yes, she did have a wand. Hawthorn, 10 ¾ inches, light and whippy. She'd bought it from a man called Ollivander, in a strange place called Diagon Alley that her parents could neither find nor quite understand. It _chose _her. She still remembered the warmth that traveled up her arm the first time she touched it, the pride in her parents' eyes, and the adoration in Lily's.

"You know I can't use it outside-" she began, only to be interrupted by what appeared to be the bush.

"_You _have a wand?" It said, leaves shaking.

Petunia let out a small squeak of surprise and ran backwards towards the swings. Lily, though her shoulders twitched in shock, didn't move.

A skinny, reedy boy in an overlarge coat and too short jeans appeared from behind the flower bush. Limp black hair with leaves stuck in it hung in his eyes. He started in Petunia's direction with undisguised incredulity.

"It's not nice to scare people like that!" snapped Petunia from the safety of the swings. Her heart was still hopping in her chest like a Chocolate Frog.

Lily looked uncertainly from the boy to her.

"You?" he said, apparently choosing to ignore her. "_You're _a witch?"

Petunia felt her cheeks go hot. The fluttering in her chest tightened. "I don't know what you're talking about. Come on, Lily."

Lily jumped like she'd been startled out of a trance, then trotted after her sister, though not without looking curiously over her shoulder at the strange boy.

"No, wait!" he called.

He ran after them, his huge coat flapping in the wind behind them. He looked a little like the man who hosted the monster movies that she and Lily would stay up to watch sometimes, sallow skin and all. His teeth could use a good brushing, too, Petunia decided.

Petunia and Lily paused to consider him. Lily pulled her hand free from her sister's and hugged the leg of the swingset, her eyes wide and curious. Petunia's remained narrow.

"What's your name?" asked Lily.

"Severus," said the boy. "I'm a Wizard, and you... you're Witches. _Both_ of you. I've been watching you for a while. I was sure _you_ were," he said, looking at Lily, and then his eyes shifted to Petunia. "But I never thought that _you_..."

He trailed off, and Petunia's chest tightened again.

"_Well. _I'm sorry I'm not _magical_ enough to impress someone who lives down in _Spinner's End_."

Severus flinched, as if recoiling from an invisible blow. A flash of something like guilt went off in her head. It was that, she supposed, that kept her from turning on her heels and marching straight back home. She clicked her tongue and folded her arms across her chest.

"Why've you been spying on us?" she demanded.

Severus colored.

"Haven't been spying," he shot back. He glared at her. "Wouldn't spy on _you_, anyway. You're no better than a _Squib_."

A ringing noise went off in Petunia's ears. The ground seemed to tilt underneath her. She'd heard the term once or twice from her classmates. It had taken some cajoling to get the meaning out of one of the older students in her house. There was no shame in being one, the Prefect had insisted, his smile screwed on and his voice very high. Petunia was skeptical. So he went on to explain some other words that she would rather have forgotten. And now, this boy who stood before her in shoes that were very large and dirty underneath him in the bright sunlight, was calling her something that even the kind Ravenclaw Prefect couldn't pretend to respect.

"Come on, Lily!" she declared. "We're leaving!"

Lily followed her sister at once, and the two girls marched out of the playground gates, leaving Severus standing alone behind them, twigs in his hair. Petunia didn't spare him a second glance. She turned the corner towards her street with her fists so tightly balled that she was beginning to lose feeling in her fingers.

Don't know _were_ he gets off..." she seethed. "A Squib! How dare he even... can't even afford a decent _jacket_... greasy little _worm_..."

"Tuney, wait!" said Lily, running to keep up.

"Can you believe him!" Petunia stopped at the street corner and began impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for Lily to catch up to her. "He attacks us, unprovoked, and then lies about spying on us?" She stuck up her nose in a fair imitation of their austere grandmother. "I ought to call his parents."

Lily leaned against the pole of the bus stop, her face red. She panted for a few moments before tentatively looking up at her sister. Her lower lip caught between her teeth, just as it always did when she was steeling herself up to say something she knew their mother didn't want to hear.

Petunia clicked her tongue. "Spit it out," she snapped.

"Well... You weren't very nice to him..."

"Nice!" exclaimed Petunia. "I 'wasn't very nice to him', she says! He scares me within an inch of my life, says I'm not _magical_ enough, calls me... calls me... _that word_, and I'm not _nice enough to him_? He can go _rot_ for all I care. You can _both_rot."

Petunia turned and stomped across the road before Lily could say anything else. Her house was soon in sight. Multicolored flowers grew in neat rows on either side of the modest driveway. The lawn was a little overgrown, but the paint on the house was bright and fresh. A pot of flowers sat on either side of the front door. Petunia could feel her wand in her pocket, digging into her thigh. She wanted to use it to blast the flowers apart. She took it out of her pocket and aimed it at the begonias, imagining each flower was his sneering face.

"Not a Witch... I'll show him a Witch..." she seethed. To her surprise, she felt tears spilling down her face. She sniffed and wiped them away with the back of her hand. "I hope I never see his stupid face _again_."

She stomped her foot, acutely aware of how childish she was being, but utterly beyond care. She sobbed into the crook of her arm. Her wand stuck stiffly out from her other hand, unused.

It was bad enough being Muggle-born. She'd found that out early enough in school. She hadn't even been there a whole term before Poinsettia Smith in third year had called her _that word _for losing twenty points in Transfiguration. She couldn't even think it, it was so vile. Unclean blood, it meant. Not magical enough, it meant. And Severus had called her worse than that. She wished she could tear his shabby little head off.

She felt a light tug at her sleeve. Petunia looked down to see Lily standing there, a smudge of dirt on her face.

"He was wrong, you know," said Lily. "About your magic. I think you're _really _magical."

Petunia hiccuped. The tight band that had been wrapped around her heart snapped and fell free. She sniffed, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Sorry," she sniffed. "I didn't... I didn't mean it. I don't want you to rot."

Lily shook her head, grabbed her sister's hand, and squeezed. Petunia squeezed back.

"Well," said Petunia, after a few moments of silence passed. "Come on, then. Let's go inside. I bet Mummy'll have tea ready by now."

Petunia tugged the door open and Lily followed.

* * *

**September 1971**

Petunia tapped her wand against her thigh, annoyed. The train shook, and her shoulder bumped into the wall, causing her frown to deepen. She told Lily that she'd find her in the first compartment in an hour, as soon as she changed into her robes and met a few friends in the Ravenclaw compartment. Now that she was done, her sister appeared to have vanished.

It was just like Lily to wander off when she'd explicitly been told not to do so. She thought back to the week before, when Lily had gotten so thoroughly lost that she'd ended up on the wrong side of Knockturn Alley with only a shopping bag full of school robes to defend her. She hadn't run into any real danger thanks to the kindness of one Mr. Burke, but Petunia remembered those fifteen minutes as some of the worst of her life. She couldn't bear to imagine a world without her sister in it.

With a sigh, Petunia began to search the train, car by car. Chattering students squeezed by her in the narrow hallway as she peeked into windows without shades and knocked on ones with them. Most people said they hadn't seen her sister, and the ones who did remember a red-haired first year girl said that she'd been with a friend.

One pair of first year boys gave her considerable trouble. They laughed at her question as if she'd told the funniest joke in the world. Petunia couldn't get a yes or no out of them. The scrawny one with glasses even tried to trip her as she walked out the door. She wished they were sorted already so she could report them to their Prefect, but, as she often thought to herself, it wasn't a perfect world.

She made it as far as the luggage compartment near the end of the train before she made any progress. The charms that kept the lights lit there were dim, and some even flickered on and off whenever there was a bump on the tracks. Near the back of the car, behind a pile of vacant animal cages, empty carts, and forgotten trunks, Petunia could hear her someone that sounded suspiciously like her sister.

"Ignore them," she said. "They're just a couple of bullying toerags."

Yes. It was definitely Lily. Petunia put on her best disapproving scowl and carefully picked her way closer.

"I didn't even do anything to him," said someone who sounded even more suspiciously like that Snape boy.

Petunia's scowl deepened.

"People like that don't need a reason to be bullies. They just are, Sev. You've got to ignore them or they'll never leave you alone."

Severus snorted. "Did you learn that from your sister?"

There was a pause as Petunia stopped in her tracks. Her stomach turned to ice. _They were talking about her behind her back!_Her own sister! Her eyes began to prickle as her fingers tightened around her wand.

"Yes," said Lily, and her voice was noticeably colder. "I did."

There was another beat of silence. Petunia's anger subsided some. At least it seemed like Lily was defending her. She stood stock still, craning her neck even though it was impossible to see the pair of them behind their pile of empty trunks without casting a spell. What else was he going to say, thinking that she wasn't around?

She hated it. Even after that disastrous first meeting in which Petunia made her feelings about that awful boy perfectly clear, Lily and Severus had become friends. Fast friends. Petunia honestly had no idea how it had happened. One day Lily was defaming his name along with her sister, and the next she was insisting that he wasn't such a bad person after all. She didn't know how Lily found the time to even come to this conclusion, what with the commotion of her Hogwarts letter arriving and the mad dash of her family to get not one, but two young witches ready for school. Petunia herself was too disgusted to ask.

Just then, the train lurched, and Petunia lost her footing. She squeaked involuntarily as she tripped over a discarded owl cage and went tumbling across the floor, landing hard on her side right in front of Lily and Severus.

"Tuney!" cried Lily. She reached for her sister. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," snapped Petunia. She made use of a nearby trunk and pushed herself to her feet. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you for ages! I told you to stay where I could find you!"

Lily opened her mouth to answer, but Severus cut her off.

"Leave her alone! She hasn't done anything wrong."

"I'm not speaking to you, you foul little worm," said Petunia.

Severus narrowed his eyes. There was a crack, and a trunk that had been sitting open atop a nearby shelf split in half, the top flying down towards Petunia and hitting her soundly on the head. She let out a yell as multicolored pinpricks of light danced across her field of vision. She heard Lily cry her name, felt her small, warm hand on her arm as she sank to the floor, clutching the top of her head.

Lily rounded on her Severus, eyes blazing. "You did that!"

Severus looked dumbfounded. He wasn't even clutching his wand. "I... I didn't..."

"I can't believe you!" Bright tears were forming in Lily's eyes. "I've told you a hundred times she's my sister, so leave her alone!"

"Lily, please, I couldn't... I never-" Severus stepped forward, one hand awkwardly outstretched, the other stiff at his side.

"Go away!" shouted Petunia, and she pulled out her wand.

A poorly-cast curse hit the floor at Severus' feet. The old carpet there singed where it was struck. Severus jumped backwards, his back hitting the wall of the train.

"I'm warning you," said Petunia, one hand on the floor, the other aimed at his head.

Severus' hand went to his pocket. Petunia breathed hard and imagined his head covered with boils.

A small, dark form threw itself between Petunia and Severus. It took a few seconds for Petunia to realize that Lily had forced herself between her sister and her friend, arms outstretched.

"Lily, move," said Petunia, refusing to lower her wand.

"No," she said. "If you want to hurt each other, you'll have to go through me. I won't let you."

"Lily, I swear I wasn't going to-" began Severus.

"You'd need to go," said Lily. Her mouth in a hard line.

Severus' gaze dropped to the floor. He seemed to wilt, like a sheaf of parchment doused with water.

"I'll talk to you later," promised Lily. "Go on."

"Yeah," said Severus, though it didn't sound like he believed her. "Okay. See you."

He slunk away, shoulders hunched, fists clenched, and eyes narrowed at the floor. He didn't look at Petunia as he passed. She, however, made sure to watch _him _until he shoved the door to the next car shut behind him, rattling the glass in his wake. She hoped he could feel it.

"Are you okay?" said Lily.

Petunia spun to face her. "Why are you still talking to him?"

Lily looked taken aback. "I... Because he's actually really nice! He just says things without thinking sometimes. He doesn't mean it. And he always feels really awful about it after! You shouldn't get so angry with him for it!"

"Heaven forbid I take your precious _Sev _at his word."

Lily glared at her sister and put her hands on her hips. "Don't be like that. Why'd you try and curse him?"

Petunia flushed and shoved her wand into her pocket. "Did you already forget about the trunk he threw at me?"

"You know he can't control that!"

"So? That didn't stop _you _from shouting at him!"

"So you're my sister! It doesn't mean I was right to do it!"

Petunia looked away, her lips twisting a little. She wished she hadn't come across Lily and Snape at all. Then she could have waited in her carriage for Lily to appear. She could have scolded Lily in peace at the end of the train ride for disappearing and Lily would have laughed it off, like she always did.

There was a bitter taste in her mouth. Her head ached.

"I hate him."

Lily lowered her gaze to the floor. "I know." She shuffled her feet and looked up at Petunia through her eyelashes. "I'm not going to stop being his friend, though, Tuney."

Petunia clenched her jaw. "Fine. Just... don't expect me to tolerate him. Not even for you."

Lily sucked in a quick breath through her teeth, as if she'd touched something very hot. Then, slowly, she nodded.

"I'm sorry I made you worry," she said, quietly.

"That's okay," said Petunia.

She stuck out her hand, stiffly. Lily looked at it for a moment, then took it.

"Let's go find the witch with the pumpkin pasties," she continued. "I'll introduce you to some of my friends and we can all have lunch. I suspect we'll both feel much better after we get a bit of lunch."

Petunia tugged on her sister's hand and the two girls began to walk back to the front of the train.

"Are all your friends Ravenclaws?" asked Lily.

"Most of them. I know a few people in Hufflepuff and Gryffindor."

"What about Slytherin?" asked Lily.

Petunia scoffed. "Slytherins aren't friends with anyone."

Lily lapsed into silence after that. Petunia filled it with chatter about her friend Rowan in Hufflepuff or her description of the Ravenclaw common room, but she somehow felt that in doing so, she'd missed something important.

* * *

**May 1972**

Petunia knew that when she watched Lily get sorted to Gryffindor that she and her sister would see little of each other during the year. Outside the forced mixing of classes, students of different houses didn't often volunteer to spend time with one another. Petunia liked it that way. It kept things neat and orderly. She thought it scandalous how some of her classmates in Ravenclaw would go out of their way to spend time with students of other houses. Carl Perkins was especially bold, as he had a girlfriend in Slytherin at the beginning of term. Petunia and the other girls in her year decided that as long as he was dating a Slytherin_, _he wasn't going to find any friends in Ravenclaw. No one was surprised when the relationship ended a few months later.

She had hoped that Lily would remember what she, Petunia, had said about Slytherins, but nothing, it seemed, could stop Lily from being friends with that awful Snape boy. Petunia had finally gotten used to spotting the two of them sneaking around the corridors together, but the sight of that boy with her sister always put her in a bad mood. Didn't Lily know that she was committing social suicide, associating herself with him? It was all Petunia could do to cast off the insinuations made by Poinsettia Smith and her gaggle of sixth years for being related to someone who would stoop so low.

Petunia was careful to distance herself from Lily. She was so careful, in fact, that the two of them found little time to get together at during the school year. Aside from a few brief conversations on the grounds or in the Great Hall, they might as well have been strangers to one another. Petunia felt a stirring of guilt as she considered this one night during her exam revisions, but shrugged the feeling off as a necessary consequence of preserving one's reputation. It wouldn't do for the wrong people to catch them together when her status was so tenuous to begin with.

As she made notes for her Potions essay, she promised herself that she'd make it up to Lily in the summer. They'd get ice cream or visit the shops. Maybe she'd take her to the roller disco and watch her go around the rink. Things would be easy between them and they'd laugh just like they did before that Snape boy slithered his way into their life.

_Aconite is also known as Wolfsbane, _she wrote. Lily would understand.

* * *

**July 1972**

"Ooh, Tuney, look at this one!"

Lily held up a fashion plate of a perfectly still Muggle model in a navy pinafore dress with a starched white collar. She sported long, perfectly straight hair and looked utterly glamorous. Petunia rested her chin on her hand and sighed.

"I wish I had hair like yours. It's so fashionable right now. Mine's all coarse and curly."

Lily pulled the magazine back to her chest and flipped through the pages. "Don't you start on that. I've wished I'd had your hair for years. Remember how Mummy used to tie mine up in rags to get it to set, but it'd always fall out by evening? You never had to do anything to yours."

Petunia pursed her lips. "So it's not popular now. I look so outdated. You have no idea what it's like."

Lily rolled her eyes, but she did it with a smile on her face. "I expect it'll be curls again soon and then I'll have to start looking up Charms in Witch Weekly to get them to stick. Look, she still curls her hair."

Lily held up another photo, this one of a woman in a trouser suit sporting wispy, fluffy curls. Petunia wrinkled her nose. She thought the girl looked rather like a dandelion clock, if the dandelion clock were made of thin yellow candyfloss.

"She looks like she's been through a hurricane."

Lily giggled. "She does, doesn't she? Don't know why it's such a popular style."

"I'm _never_ doing _that _to myself," sniffed Petunia.

Lily settled back down on the couch, her feet on the wall and her hair dangling off the cushions. The clock on the mantel ticked away the minutes. It was half one already. Their mother would be home from the grocer's soon, probably with a bushel of potatoes and carrots. They had them on special that day, and their mother could never resist a bargain. Petunia wondered if it would be roast again for supper. She carefully took the corner of the page between her freshly-manicured fingers and turned it.

Beside her, Lily lay her magazine down on her stomach. After a few moments, Petunia realized that her sister was staring at her. She crossed her legs uncomfortably. When Lily didn't stop, Petunia regarded her over her own magazine, eyebrows quirked in suspicion.

"What?"

"Nothing," said Lily. She smiled. Her hands were folded across her chest. "I missed this."

"Missed what?"

Lily made an expansive gesture with her arm. "This. Looking at magazines and nattering on about fashion. Real fashion."

"Witches are fashionable," said Petunia. "Poinsettia Smith swears by _Sylph's Secret_. Their robes are all the rage in Hogsmeade right now."

Lily rolled her eyes again. "Poinsettia Smith is a vapid weasel."

Petunia frowned, but decided to let it go. She didn't understand why Lily didn't like Poinsettia. From Petunia's point of view, the girl was _chic _incarnate.

"Besides," Lily went on. "There's nothing _interesting _about robes."

"Well. Certainly not school robes," sniffed Petunia. "Dreadful color, black. Makes us all look like we're trying to scare children at Hallowe'en."

Lily laughed. "Exactly! See, I knew you'd get it. None of the other girls in Gryffindor understand. They're all purebloods or halfbloods, or they pretend they are even if they really aren't. You're the only other girl at Hogwarts who knows what it's like."

Petunia remembered all the effort she'd put into avoiding her sister during the school year and felt a knot begin in her throat. She cleared it, as if the act would banish her guilt. It didn't.

She closed her magazine. "Surely I can't be the only one. There are Muggleborns in your year in Hufflepuff. I know I've seen Barbara Hambly and Violet Perkins trying to get a pile of 45s to play on Flitwick's phonograph. I'm sure they'd be interested in fashion. Why don't you go and talk to them when term starts?"

Lily sighed. "They're _Hufflepuffs_. They've got enough problems without some mad Gryffindor girl coming at them with the latest issue of _Look_. Hufflepuffs, Tuney? Honestly."

Petunia tried to keep her dignity about her. Truly, she did. Hufflepuff was no laughing matter. Once that thought crossed her mind, however, a wayward snort pushed its way free, leaving the pieces of said dignity trampled behind it. At this, Lily collapsed into a fit of giggles, and soon Petunia was laughing with her. The two girls held their sides and let their mirth wash over everything that they both left unsaid about distance and prejudice and disappointing friends. Right then, they were together. That, as far as they were concerned, was how it would always be.


	2. 1972 to 1973

**October 1972**

It was the Hallowe'en feast. Pumpkins hung in the air, dog-sized spiders crawled across the ceiling, friendly bats perched on the backs of chairs, the ghosts were putting on a death-themed can-can, and it was the greatest moment of Petuna's life.

She had been invited to sit with Poinsettia Smith and her cohort of perfectly coiffed friends. _Poinsettia Smith_. Sixth-year. The most admired girl in Ravenclaw. Niece of the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic himself. If you were invited to sit with Poinsettia Smith, you were assured a wide berth in the corridors, the best spot at the table, and unspoken immunity to teasing. It was like being invited to join the the Rolling Stones, or T. Rex, or the Three Bad Elves. You became cool. Respected. Special.

It was more than Petunia had even begun to hope for herself. Not yet, anyway. True, she had always wanted to be special, as long as she could remember. Finding out she was magical as a child, and born of Muggle parents, no-less, had only strengthened that desire. But the fact that she, a third-year, had been invited to sit with the likes of Smith, was so far beyond the scope of Petunia's plans for herself that she was certain that her heart would give out by the end of the night from sheer joy.

Poinsettia took a long, slow sip of pumpkin juice and carefully set it down. She then dabbed the area around her mouth with a napkin, though she hadn't gotten a drop of it on her. When she noticed the other girls around Poinsettia doing the same, she followed suit. Poinsettia awarded her with a warm smile.

"You have such lovely manners, dear," she said. "That's why I noticed you. I saw you sitting with the third years and I said to myself, Settie, that girl has promise. She knows exactly how to hold a teacup. It's a dying art, you know. It's up to girls like us to preserve it."

The girls around her nodded. Petunia was in heaven.

"Do you see that boy over there?" said Poinsettia in a not-very-carefully-concealed whisper.

Petunia followed the line of Poinsettia's finger. At the end of it was a fourth year boy in Gryffindor. He had a bowl haircut and what looked like second-hand robes. His sleeve trailed across his food, knocking over a stack of peas as he brought his fork to his mouth. They bounced to the ground. The boy didn't notice.

"What can you tell me about him?"

Petunia blinked. She wasn't expecting to be quizzed on the sundry inhabitants of her school. "I'm sorry?"

Poinsettia and her girls giggled. "I want you to tell me about him. I don't know him from Merlin. I'm curious. Go on."

"I... I think his name's Arnold. Arnold Baker? No, Blake. I'm sure it's Blake. Arnold Blake. "

She glanced at Poinsettia, who was still smiling prettily, but was otherwise silent. She bit her lip, concentrating. What else did she know? She thought hard, back to a conversation she'd once had with Lily about the circumstances of her housemate's family. Surely it couldn't hurt to share a little of what she knew.

"His Mum's a tailor. Sometimes he gets letters from her at breakfast. They're about his grandfather, who disappeared a few weeks ago. No one knows where he went, but Tanzy says he ran away with a foreign witch and took the family fortune with him. That's why he's in second-hand robes." She leaned in, and so did everyone else. "His Mum can't afford to keep him in new clothes anymore."

There was a series of tiny gasps that may as well have been applause, the way they made Petunia feel.

"I'd no idea!" said one of the girls, a sixth-year with a mess of freckles and curly black hair. Petunia thought her name was Anita. Her hands were clasped underneath her chin, which made Petunia think of the statues of rapturous saints in her local churchyard.

"You see?" said Poinsettia. "What did I tell you? She's a natural."

A natural at what? Petunia felt a bit confused, even amongst the pride that flooded her for having passed this apparent test. Did she just tell Poinsettia something she didn't know? But... Poinsettia knew _everything_. Right?

Amidst the flurry of whispers that followed Petunia's pronouncement, Poinsettia reached across the table and patted her hand. Her perfectly coiffed black hair and dark skin gave her the appearance of a princess, the kind men used to kill each other over in fairy tales. Petunia wished with all her might that she could look like that.

"You stick with me, dearest," she said with a wink. "And between the two of us, this school won't hold _any _secrets."

* * *

**December 1972**

"Lily!" shouted Petunia. "Have you seen my robes?"

"Which ones?" shouted Lily, from her room down the hall.

"The ones Mum got me, with the purple trim! The new ones!"

Petunia carefully placed a pair of neatly-folded socks onto a similarly well-packed stack of underthings. Everything was in type-based stacks and sealed off with a time-release, wrinkle-free charm that Petunia had cast on her trunk before the holidays began with the aid of Professor Flitwick. There was a place for school robes, one for Muggle clothing, one for bedclothes, one for underthings, one for dress robes, and one for casual robes. She even had her books and other sundry supplies sectioned off so they wouldn't compress or stain anything. It was a work of organizational art. Petunia almost felt giddy looking at it.

The only thing missing was the set of beautiful new dress robes that her parents had given her for Christmas. That, she planned to lay across the top of everything else, so that it would be the first thing her dorm-mates saw when she opened her trunk.

Of course, this all depended on whether she found them before she had to leave, which was in a scant few hours.

"Dunno!" Lily yelled back. "Have you checked the closet?"

"Don't be stupid; of course I've checked the closet!"

She heard Lily slam a drawer. "Well I don't know where they are! Ask Mum!"

Petunia put her hands on her hips and marched to Lily's room. In her cardigan and winter skirt she felt every inch the poised young lady. She even wore a tiny bow where she parted her hair on the left side of her head, just like Poinsettia Smith. Petunia thought this made her look regal. Lily said it made her look ridiculous.

"Mum and Dad went to the store! That's why- _Lily_!"

The sight before her was downright scandalous. There were clothes everywhere. Schoolbooks in various states of dishevelment were scattered on the floor and Lily's furniture. Petunia swore she even saw loose pages sticking out from under Lily's bed. To make the picture complete, nearly everything, including Lily, was spattered in bright green ink. What her friends would think if they knew! It was enough to make her consider running away to Morocco.

"What in Merlin's name happened here!"

Lily gave her a sulky look. "Nothing! I'm just packing."

"It looks like all your ink bottles exploded at the same time!"

"They didn't!" said Lily, then paused. "Well, one did. But that's only because I dropped it. I didn't do it on purpose."

Petunia clicked her tongue. "This is why it should be legal for us to do magic outside school. There's no way we'll get this out with soap and water."

She ran a critical finger along Lily's chin, where she'd apparently attempted to rub some of the ink away, to examine the emerald spots on her collar. Lily pulled back.

"Stop it. I'll get it off once we're on the train."

Petunia blanched. "No. No, no, no, no. We'll be a laughingstock if you show up at the Hogwarts Express like... like _this_."

Lily rolled her eyes. "It's just a bit of ink! No one will care!"

"_My_ friends will. Especially Poinsettia. No, this just won't do," she said, and began to busily gather up Lily's stray clothing, ink and all. "Get in the shower. Ugh, you look vile. The least you can do is get all that green off your face. You can borrow one of my dresses until it's time to change."

Lily glowered mutinously. "I don't care what your friend Poinsettia thinks," she said.

"Hmph. It's a good thing she isn't your friend then, is it?"

Petunia began to fold her sister's clothes. It was hard work, not get any stray ink on her cardigan. But Petunia was an expert at keeping up her appearance. She wasn't going to let a little think like ink stains mar her.

"Yes," spat Lily, "It certainly is."

Petunia put one of Lily's shirts in the 'clean' stack and raised one eyebrow. "What, exactly, so offends you about her? She's perfectly lovely to me. Unlike one person I could name, which I won't."

Lily turned to Petunia, her hair so mussed it looked like it was standing on end. Her eyebrows were screwed together in a perfect imitation of their father after his team lost their chance to go to Champions' Leauge. "Are you joking? I've seen you together in the Great Hall! She treats you like a glorified House Elf! Like her little pet spy she can send after people she doesn't like!" She pitched her voice into a falsetto. "'What's Elroy Jenkins up to in Slughorn's office, 'Tuney?' 'Find out what Liza Rogers is doing with Benedict Zimmerman, love.' 'Will you do my Charms homework for me tonight, dearest, I have a headache.' 'Could you shine my shoes, pet, you're just so good at it.' It makes me sick thinking about it."

Petunia stood up so fast she could feel her spine snap into place. "She's _not like that_."

Lily made a sound like an angry bird. "Did you see what she did to poor Olivia Wilde after her father lost his last election? The poor girl had to wear a wig for a month."

Petunia felt her cheeks get hot. "He insulted her aunt! It was uncalled for!"

"So what? Olivia never did anything to her in her life. It was cruel and it was wrong!"

"Her father shouldn't have-"

"And what about Rogers and Zimmerman? What about that poor Blake boy? What did they ever do to her to deserve her turning everyone against them?" She raised her hand and jabbed it at Petunia's bow like a rapier. "She's a shallow cow, Petunia, and she's turning you into her!"

Petunia lifted her hand to her bow before she could stop herself and let it ghost over the fabric. Then she dropped her arm to her side and clenched her fists.

"I'm not a shallow cow and she isn't either!"

"You're right." Lily put one hand on her hip. "She's a bloodthirsty snake."

Petunia was breathing very hard. Sparkling white stars cavorted in front of her eyes like immolating dancers. "She hasn't done anything nearly as bad as what your 'friend' Sev does to anyone who looks at him wrong!"

Petunia saw a flash of uncertainty in her sister's eyes, but it was only for a split second. "If you're talking about Potter and his gang, those idiots have always attacked him first! He has the right to defend himself!"

"No!" she said. Her lips twisted. She could taste blood. "I'm not talking about Potter. I'm talking about first years, _Lily_. He burned half of Octavian Wilkes's face off for knocking him over in the hall."

"That was an accident! He was carrying some Potions ingredients and Wilkes tripped him! I helped take him to the Hospital Wing!"

Petunia kept pushing. "What about that pair of horns he gave on that new Halfblood Adelphos Krill? Or the boils he cast on Daniel Peterson? Or when he 'accidentally' took the bones out of Robbie Bell's arm? I've heard they're both Muggleborn, Lily. And they certainly didn't run into Severus in the hall!"

"He doesn't- You're changing the subject!"

"_Am I_?" she spat. "I thought we were talking about _bad influences_, Lily. Before you preach to me about the company I keep, look to your own!"

Petunia turned on her heels and tripped over an especially stained wad of fabric. She managed not to crash to the floor, but the toe of her shoe caught on the sleeve and it ripped. She yanked it off the floor and brandished it at Lily.

"And if you don't want your things ruined you shouldn't throw- _what is this!_"

The room went dead quiet. Petunia slowly lifted the torn garment to her face. It was her new set of dress robes, just bought by mail order from the most fashionable tailor in London. She was going to wear it to Poinsettia's back-to-Hogwarts social on Saturday. The sleeve had ripped off right along the seam. It was covered in green splotches of varying sizes.

She felt her face grow cold.

"_I asked you where this was and you said you didn't know."_

"I didn't know! I swear I didn't!" Lily's face was green, and not because of the ink. "Dad must have accidentally-"

"Liar!" screamed Petunia, although her stomach clenched with apprehension. The air around her began to hum.

"I'm not lying!" Lily shouted back.

"You ruined it!"

"I didn't do anything!" said Lily. There were tears in her eyes now. "I'm not lying and I didn't do anything to your stupid robes! You can just fix them when we're on the train, anyway!"

"That's not the point!"

"So what is!"

The lightbulb above their heads popped. Both girls let out short screams as a fine shower of hot glass rained onto them. The room went dim, dirty sunbeams casting shapes into sharp contrast. Lily sat heavily down on the bed and began to sob into her hands. Petunia felt a prickling in the region of her gut. She folded her arms across her chest and looked at the wall.

"Don't be so dramatic," she said.

"Dramatic?" Lily laughed derisively. "You blew up a light bulb and I'm the one who's dramatic?"

"Shut up."

"You shut up!"

Petunia drew herself up. "Fine. I _will_ shut up. I won't speak to you until you apologize for what you said about Poinsettia."

"Get out of my room!" shouted Lily, springing to her feet. "I'm never speaking to you again!"

"I don't care!" Petunia shot back. "And I was leaving anyway!"

Lily slammed the door so hard in her sister's face that dust shook loose from the ceiling. A split second later, there was a loud "pop" and an owl appeared in the hallway, screeching as it sailed towards Petunia's face. Petunia yelped. The owl dropped a lavender-colored letter in her hand, screeched again, and popped back to wherever it had come from.

Hands shaking, Petunia tore open the envelope and read the letter inside.

_Dear Ms. Evans,_

_We have received intelligence that you performed a Shatterglass Spell at thirty-seven minutes past eight this morning in a Muggle-inhabited area. As you know, under age wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spell work on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Under age Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C). We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offence under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Amelia Travers_

_Improper Use of Magic Department_

* * *

**January 1973**

Though Petunia did her best to repair her dress robes, she was unable to mend the ruined seam in the sleeve to her satisfaction. It bunched whenever she shifted her weight. She knew that she should send it to a tailor to get it professionally fixed, but she couldn't bear to admit to her mother that she needed a bit of spending money to fix the gift she'd been so recently given for Christmas, nor could she reveal the warning she'd received from the Ministry. She seriously thought about blaming Lily for it all, but then the entire fight would come out, and it was certain that she would face a much harsher punishment than her sister. After all, as her mother was so fond of pointing out, she was the oldest, and she should know better. It was her duty to set an example that her sister would hopefully follow. This had merited far more than what she considered her fair share of punishments.

The green spots, at least, were removed easily enough with a few stain-removal spells. Ink was among the most common stains found on school-age children's clothing, and Petunia adored cleaning spells of all kinds. But she couldn't wear her new robes to Poinsettia's party. For that, she would never forgive her sister.

When she was lying in her bed at night in Ravenclaw tower, long after the curtains had been drawn and the other students had gone to sleep, it would sometimes occur to her that she had been the one to ruin her robes. However, she reasoned, she would never have ruined them at all had they not been on Lily's floor in the first place.

Months passed in frosty silence. Petunia would sometimes see Lily in the corridors, but, unlike the last time Petunia had gone out of her way to avoid her sister, Lily was avoiding her in kind. When they were forced to see one another, they did not interact. It got to the point that simply seeing Lily was enough to make Petunia rage against the parental injustice that had so far characterized her life, along with the deep unfairness that the most impressive gift she had ever received had been ruined within days of its arrival.

If Lily felt any remorse for this, Petunia didn't see it. She stuck to her friend Severus when she wasn't with her gaggle of Gryffindor girls, making it impossible for Petunia to approach her even if she had wanted to do so. Why she wouldn't simply apologize was beyond Petunia's comprehension. She supposed it was pride.

Still. Some days, when a Pureblood failed to understand a reference to Muggle culture, or when there was another mention in the Daily Prophet of some blood-related crime, there was a tightness in her chest that she couldn't relieve.

At the end of the month, Petunia was leaving the Astronomy tower and trying very hard not to think about the news that another Muggleborn shopkeeper was found dead among his wares that morning, when she heard something peculiar coming from behind a closed classroom door.

"...there, yes, ah..."

"...good?"

Petunia stopped. Two voices in an empty classroom. Female and male. Possibly breaking the rules. Definitely doing something scandalous. Quickly, she cast a silencing spell on her shoes and robes and crept closer. She wished she knew how to do a Disillusionment Charm, but Flitwick flatly refused to teach her until she was at least in her sixth year. Old traditionalist.

"Missed you," said the boy, followed by a wet, snapping noise, like one of the giant squid's tentacles hitting the water of the lake.

"You should never have left," said the girl, her voice low and punctuated by rhythmic bursts of breath. "I told you what kind of person she was. I told you she'd cheat on you. And I was right, wasn't I?"

"Yes, yes..."

"I'd never lie to you."

"Don't stop."

Petunia was sure she knew that voice. Both of those voices. But they were both speaking just above whispers, and it was difficult to make out the faces behind the words. She'd never heard anyone talking like that, outside of soap operas or the radioplays that only started after midnight. Her skin was hot, and her hands and feet were very cold. There was a wild fluttering in her stomach that had nothing to do with the sense of triumph that usually accompanied her discoveries. Though she was still intensely curious about just who it was behind that door, she suddenly felt very strongly about being as far away from them as possible.

She backed away, nearly tripping over the hem of her robes in her haste. There was a long moan, then the girl muttered something that sounded like a name. Three syllables. Petunia, however, was too far away to make sense of it.

That night, by light of her wand, she began reading her friend Anita's collection of romance comics. She found it very difficult to fall asleep.

* * *

**March 1973**

"...and that Liza Rogers. Complete slag. The boys never shut up about her. I suppose that's unsurprising, as she's done it with about half of them already."

All the girls in the group nodded in agreement, or added an anecdote describing when and where Liza had gotten off with this boy or that boy. One of the girls even hinted that Liza would do it with a House Elf if it gave her a compliment. There was a rush of tittering.

"Wilde is even worse," said Poinsettia. "Do you see her over there, flirting with Blake? Disgusting. How she can sink so low, I'll never understand."

"It's not as if he can buy her flowers," said the freckle-covered girl.

"No," Petunia agreed. "He needs to buy a proper haircut before he can do that."

"Or his mother needs to find a bowl that flatters the shape of his head."

Petunia laughed with the rest of them, though something inside her gave an off-key twang. She ignored it. It was lovely to gossip in the company of like-minded friends. It made her feel like she was the one on the cover of Witch Weekly instead of the one looking to it for inspiration. And the approving look in Poinsettia's eyes whenever she reported a tidbit of overheard information was enough to make any personal discomfort worthwhile.

There was another spike of pain in her gut. It spread through her hips like hot oil. She folded her hands over her belly and tried hard to ignore it.

A stately barn owl glided over and dropped a flat square package on Poinsettia's lap before lighting on the back of her chair.

"Brunhilda!" she cooed. "What's this?"

The owl ruffled her feathers in reply. Poinsettia smiled and fed her a piece of sausage, leaving the package in her lap to glitter enticingly.

"Who could have sent this, hm?" She ran one finger over Brunhilda's neck-feathers.

"Ooh, open it!" said Anita.

"Yes, do!" Petunia chimed in.

The rest of the girls followed suit until Poinsettia, smiling like a Christmas cherub, lifted the lid off her gift.

Inside was a silver locket on a rich blue cushion. The chain it dangled from was so thin that Petunia was sure it would break when Poinsettia lifted it from the box, but it held taut. It was like a strand of silk, or the the tendril of a spiderweb. The locket was small and heart-shaped. Poinsettia opened it and a soft song played, one that Petunia had never heard.

"It's our song," breathed Poinsettia. "Tuney, darling, fasten this around my neck, there's a pet."

Petunia immediately stood, ignoring the inward groan of her midsection, and fastened the chain under Poinsettia's elaborately curled hair. Her legs shook a little, but her fingers were quite steady. When she was done, the locket rested prettily just in the shallow of Poinsettia's neck. Poinsettia patted it.

"There, now. Lovely job. Take a seat, dear."

Petunia sat down again.

"You have to tell us who it's from," said Anita.

"Check the box," she said.

Anita snatched the box before anyone else could get their hands on it. She lifted up the cushion and found a message scrawled underneath.

"To my winter flower, from Padriac, your prince." She looked at Poinsettia, as if she'd just sprouted five arms and started showering everyone with galleons. "Padriac! Padriac Haversham! He didn't!"

"He did." Poinsettia cocked her head and smiled. "I told you he would."

Anita screamed, and so did two of the other girls. Petunia frowned and looked to the only other girl close to her age, a Ravenclaw fourth-year named Circe de Aquila. Circe beckoned Petunia close with her finger. Petunia leaned in.

"They were together all last year, until he left her this summer. For that Wilde cow," she whispered. She pressed her finger to her lips and joined the other girls in their congratulations.

Petunia remained as she was. She thought back to all the times during the year she had told Poinsettia what she knew about Haversham and Wilde's relationship (including all the times they'd snuck off to the Astronomy tower). They'd recently had a very public, very messy breakup, in which Haversham accused her of cheating on him with a boy in Gryffindor. Wilde denied it, but everyone in the school knew it was true. The boy was quite willing to give the details to anyone who would listen. Besides, Poinsettia insisted it was true, and Petunia had never heard her lie about anyone. That breakup, coupled with the month she had to wear a badly-made wig after using shampoo laced with Hair-Be-Gone, had turned Olivia Wilde into a twitchy parody of her former self. She jumped whenever any professor asked her a question in class, and spent almost no time outside her dorm room. Rumor had it that she wasn't planning on returning to Hogwarts after the summer holidays.

There was another, extremely insistent wrench of pain in Petunia's middle. She was sure that Poinsettia wouldn't spread a false rumor. She would never. She might have wanted her boyfriend back, but she wouldn't do it at the cost of ruining someone else's life. Even if that person did steal her boyfriend. She wouldn't. Would she? She saw Wilde's miserable face from across the Great Hall as she ate alone, and heard her sister laugh at some joke at the Gryffindor table. Petunia began to feel lightheaded.

"...Tuney? Love, are you ill?"

"What?" Petunia looked up to see all her friend staring at her with varied expressions of concern and amusement. She put her hand to her cheek and it was cold. The pain in her middle was at a rolling boil now. She pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. "No. My... my stomach..." A stream of warmth sprouted between her legs. "I have to go to the Hospital Wing."

"Are you quite all right, dear? Do you need Anita to go with you?"

Petunia shook her head. "No need to trouble yourself. Congratulations to you and Padriac. You'll have to tell me all about him later." She forced a smile.

"Of course, pet." She waved her hand. "Go on. Don't let us keep you."

Petunia nodded and walked as fast as she could manage. Her friends watched her for a moment, then returned to their excited conversation about Poinsettia's planned date with Haversham. Once she was in the corridor, she began to run.

By the time she arrived in the Hospital Wing, blood was dripping down her leg. Madam Pomfrey was kind. She took Petunia to her own hospital bed and set up a curtain so no one could see or disturb her. She even promised to give Petunia's robes to the House Elves to be cleaned without letting anyone know what had happened, and gave her a Peony Potion to help ease the pain. But in the midst of her quiet, gentle talk about the changes her body was going through and what spells and potions were best, Petunia began to cry.

Madam Pomfrey stopped. "Evans! Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?"

Petunia shook her head and wiped her face with the sleeves of her hospital gown. "...I miss my sister."

"Oh," said Madam Pomfrey. "Oh, you poor dear. We can get her here. I'll floo McGonagall for you and-"

Petunia shook her head harder and began to sob in earnest. Madam Pomfrey patted her. Her hand was cold but steady and professional as it made wide circles on Petunia's back.

"There, there," she said. "You'll be all right. It happens to all girls eventually. And we all get through it, now don't we? You'll see. You're just a little frightened. That's all it is. You're not alone, child. You're not alone."


	3. April 1973 to July 1973

**April 1973**

Petunia spent most of the Easter holidays alone in her room. This was not because she was avoiding her sister. On the contrary, she was beginning to wish that she had never sworn not to speak to her until she apologized. She needed to talk to someone about what had happened to her, but she suspected that she would find no succor from her friends, and she was too embarrassed to speak to her mother. No; the reason that Petunia refused to leave her room except in the case of meals or family outings was that Lily's friend Severus had been invited to stay with them, and had accepted. Mr. Snape hadn't been keen on letting his son go for the holiday, but after a few words with Mr. Evans, he had relented in the end.

Petunia overheard her parents talking about how Severus had been going through "troubles at home." They never named exactly what those troubles were, but Severus showed up at their door with a black eye the day the holidays began, and Petunia wasn't stupid. The Snapes were famous for their violent rows. Everyone in town reported hearing everything from breaking glass to screams coming from the Snape residence some nights, but Mrs. Snape never showed up to her job at the local pharmacy with so much as a scratch on her, and Mr. Snape was known as a friendly, jovial man in the pubs. No one had ever thought to press the issue. Severus, it appeared, had suffered for it.

Although Petunia pitied him for this, they were still not friends. Every night during the family dinners, they glared at each other while Mr. Evans laughed at his sarcastic jokes, and spoke in single words if forced to converse at all. Mrs. Evans thought this meant that they were secretly sweet on one another, which Petunia found absolutely revolting. She brought it up to Petunia one mid-morning when Lily and Severus were out in the village, presumably visiting the candy shop. Either that, or they were checking up on his mother. Not that Petunia cared.

"He's hideous!" Petunia insisted. "How could you possibly think that!"

Mrs. Evans smiled and gave a little shrug. In her lap, she shifted Petunia's dress robes and pulled another stitch from the badly-repaired sleeve. Petunia had told her upon her return home that she found it like that in her dorm one day, and Mrs. Evans didn't press the issue.

"I wouldn't say that," said Mrs. Evans. A smile played at her lips. "Your father wasn't always so handsome. He used to be all arms and legs. I thought he looked like an overgrown tree frog."

Petunia tried and failed to imagine her father as a child. No matter what she did, she always pictured him with his greying yellow mustache. Adding elongated limbs to the image was too weird for her to contemplate. It was far easier to imagine her red-headed mother as a girl. All she had to do was picture Lily, but with hazel eyes instead of green.

"He had to grow into his looks," Mrs. Evans continued. "And when he did, well. Let's say I wasn't the only girl in town who wanted to go with him." She looked up at her daughter and winked. "Severus will be the same way, you'll see."

"_Mum_. _No_. His nose is enormous."

"Oh, tut. It makes him look rakish. Pass me my scissors."

Petunia picked up the silver scissors and passed them to her mother. That done, she then threw herself deeper into the couch cushions and folded her arms over her chest. "This is stupid."

"Don't say 'stupid,'" said Mrs. Evans, without looking up from her sewing. Petunia took the opportunity to roll her eyes.

At dinner that night, Petunia attempted to imagine Severus as an adult. No matter how she twisted her imagination, she could not reconcile the image of the sallow-skinned, big-nosed boy in front of her with the supposedly rakish man her mother swore he would become. If Lily saw that in him, she had no idea how. She watched his greasy hair fall in his face as he leaned over his food, imagined marrying him, and could not suppress a shudder.

* * *

**June 1973**

At the end of the school year, Poinsettia invited Petunia and all her friends to spend two weeks with her family in the Lake District that summer. They were sharing a cabin on the Hogwarts Express, and had just finished their lunch of finger sandwiches, tea, and scones, graciously provided by Anita. A flurry of excited talk followed Poinsettia's announcement. Circe actually hugged Petunia, she was so delighted.

"We were going to visit Majorca," Poinsettia said through the chatter. "But we did that last year and I've never seen the Lakes. My family has an ancestral home in Broughton-in-Furness. I'm just dying to show it to all of you. Oh, do come."

Anita and the rest of the girls readily accepted. Only Petunia didn't immediately agree.

"I'll have to ask my parents," she said.

Poinsettia raised one eyebrow at her. "Of course, love. We'll all need to get permission from someone. What I want to know is whether _you_want to come, not your parents."

"Oh," said Petunia. She breathed in to control the blush that was threatening to rise to her cheeks. "Yes, I'd love to come. Thank you for inviting me."

"Good." Poinsettia reached across the table and patted Petunia's hand. "It'll be good for you to get away from that sister of yours for a while. To say nothing of that Snape boy she goes about with."

"Yes," Petuinia responded. Now here was a subject she was comfortable with. "Yes, he's positively loathsome, isn't he? I hated him as soon as we met. He had on a coat that was too big for him and his shoes didn't fit. He looked ridiculous. I couldn't believe he had the gall to start insulting me, looking like that."

"You've always had a discerning eye," said Poinsettia. "That's one of the things I admire about you. You always know who to avoid."

Anita smiled at her. "Too bad your sister doesn't share that quality. It must be so hard for you sometimes."

Petunia felt the eyes of the whole cabin on her. There was a look on Poinsettia's face that she'd seen several times before, but never directed at her. It reminded Petunia of a cat who has just spotted a bird with a broken wing. She tried very hard not to squirm in her seat.

"Lily... Lily's being kind. She can't help it. She pities him. He's like a stray dog that bites everyone but her."

"He certainly looks like one," added Circe.

Everyone laughed, including Petunia. They all proceeded to roundly abuse Severus, and said nothing more of Lily. Petunia was happy to participate, but the activity wasn't as enjoyable as it normally was. Whenever she glanced at Poinsettia, she kept seeing that familiar, unsettling look on her face, imposed over it like a shadow.

* * *

**July 1973**

Petunia did get permission to go to the Lake District, but it was a near thing. Her parents, while they wanted her to go and spend time with their friends, were blunt to her about their economic situation. Her mother worked on the assembly line in a local factory, and her father was the assistant supervisor of the men's fashion department at the Marks & Spencer. Between the two of them, they made just enough to keep their family fed and safe, with a little room for a few luxuries in between. They certainly could not, as they reminded their eldest daughter, afford to send her on a holiday in the Lake District. They could cover only a part of the cost. Petunia would have to make the rest of the money herself.

This was how Petunia Evans ended up starting a door-to-door cleaning service. Her first desire was to work with her father, but his supervisor was not keen on the idea of employing a teenage girl to work with half-undressed men. Cokeworth's by-laws also prohibited most heavy work for a girl of her age. There was babysitting, but Petunia rather loathed children. When her mother advised her to pursue something that interested her, it took Petunia only a day to decide on something that was both practical and pleasurable: housework.

There was nothing more satisfying to her than a room that was so clean it looked as if it had come from a magazine. She liked the glamour of the finished product, and she enjoyed the concrete results of her work. Her grandmother was much the same way. Her house was always completely spotless, even under the refrigerator. Petunia knew, because she'd looked.

There was also a small side benefit of getting to go through all her neighbors' things, but Petunia took care not to advertise this to potential clients.

One day, as she was cleaning the kitchen of her neighbor Mrs. Vandercamp, there was a crashing noise from upstairs. The noise caused Petunia's heart to leap to her windpipe. Her breath sped up and her eyes and fingers tingled. Mrs. Vandercamp hadn't warned Petunia that there would be a guest. Very slowly, Petunia set the vase she'd been dusting down on the kitchen counter. Maybe it was the cat?

Petunia concentrated, trying to listen. The floor above her head creaked. Then, the floorboards resonated with heavy footsteps. Whoever was up there was large, and, judging from the stumbling he did, extremely drunk. Petunia knew this with a sudden, unshakable certainty.

Mrs. Vandercamp was a kind woman. She was famous for her kindness, in fact. So famous that vagrants as far out as three surrounding counties knew that she often offered the use of her guest bed to people she saw as in need of assistance. Petunia's groped in the kitchen drawer for a knife. As far as she knew, no one had ever taken advantage of Mrs. Vandercamp's kindness, but she was not Mrs. Vandercamp, and she was not about to be assaulted by a drunken tramp if she could help it.

"Sara?" a thickly accented voice called out. He sounded like he was from the North. Petunia's hand found a long, thick-handled knife. She pulled it out of the drawer and held it under the counter. She preferred her wand, but she knew that a wand wouldn't likely terrify a grown man into leaving her alone. More likely it'd make him laugh. "Sara?"

"Mrs. Vandercamp isn't here!" Petunia's voice was shrill and girlish in her ears. She took a breath to calm herself down tried to make herself sound older. "This is the cleaning service! Whoever you are, please go home!"

A door opened and closed upstairs. The stranger's heavy feet found the kitchen stairs. He tripped once and swore as he skidded down two steps before catching himself. When he came into the kitchen, Petunia stifled a horrified gasp.

He wore large work boots that were coated in dried mud. He was in his shirtsleeves and his short black hair and beard were mussed from sleep. He clutched at the bannister with one hand to maintain his balance while his small black eyes squinted in her direction. His skin, Petunia noticed, was as sallow as his son's.

"Mr. Snape!" She nearly dropped her knife in alarm. "What are you doing here?"

She knew what he was doing there, of course. She could smell him from where she stood as clear as if she were standing next to him. He reeked of cigar smoke. His favorite bar, The Pious Monk, was right down the road from Mrs. Vandercamp's home. She'd overheard Severus telling Lily once that his father often wouldn't come home some nights. Apparently this was one reason why.

Instead of answering her, he frowned. When he spoke, he slurred a little. "You're that Evans girl. The skinny one. "

Petunia nodded, though she didn't much like being called skinny. She told herself that she should be reassured that it was Mr. Snape in Mrs. Vandercamp's house and not a stranger, but breathing would not slow. She knew the things that Mr. Snape had done to his family in his drunken rages. Lily had told her, before things went wrong between them. And Mr. Snape was decidedly drunk.

She told herself to be calm. It didn't work. "I- Mrs. Vandercamp hired me. To clean the kitchen."

He regarded her for a moment more, then nodded, as if he'd resolved some internal debate. Then, he looked at her, and he smiled. It wasn't nice smile. Rather like his son's on the days he successfully cursed Potter, Petunia thought.

"My boy's told me about you," he said. He took a step toward her. She jumped backwards.

"S- stay back!" she said. She had the good sense to keep the knife hidden, lest it goad him into attacking.

He narrowed his eyes. "You're awful jumpy for a cleaning lady. You sure Sara knows you're here?"

"Of course she does!" she snapped, and pointed to her cleaning supplies. Tobias Snape tilted his head at her and smiled that awful smile again. She immediately regretted letting irritation get the better of fear.

"Sara doesn't lock her doors. Could be you're here to rob the place. My boy tells me you need the money for some holiday with your posh friends. Sara's the trusting type. You knew that, though, didn't you?"

"I'm not a thief!" she squeaked. She wished she could control her voice, but her heart seemed to have replaced her vocal chords and her brain had been overtaken by a thick, blinding fog. "You're the one who wasn't invited! Mrs. Vandercamp never told me you were here!"

He grinned like a hungry dog. "Sara knows me. She's never talked to me about you, though. Don't much like finding you in her kitchen. Seems fishy. Let me have a look in that bucket, see what you already stole."

He advanced on her again, and this time she held up the knife.

For a short second, Petunia thought she had scared him. Tobias Snape took a miniscule, apparently involuntary step backward. She began to look around her for an escape route. She couldn't dash up the stairs, Mr. Snape stood between her and the kitchen door. Maybe while he was distracted she could dodge him and-

He gave a short laugh like a backfiring car. He then strode the length of the room and grabbed her by the wrist. She didn't even think to strike at him. She simply gaped as he wrenched the knife from her hand and threw it into the sink.

His face was very close to hers. He stank of lager. "Now what would a _Witch_ like you need with a knife like this?"

He shoved her hard against the fridge. She bounced off and her hip collided hard with the kitchen island. The corner of it bit into her hip and the vase she'd been dusting crashed to the floor.

"That was Sara's favorite vase," said Mr. Snape. "She'll be livid. Fix it, Witch. Where's your wand?"

Her wand was tucked into her skirt pocket, but she couldn't cast a spell here, now, in the presence of a Muggle. Not after the warning she'd received over the Christmas holiday. A voice in the back of her mind told her she was being stupid, that surely there were exceptions to the law for situations such as this, but she couldn't quite understand it over the sound of Mr. Snape's harsh breathing.

Petunia shook her head, one hand covering her bruise. "I can't!"

"I know it's on you somewhere." He wasn't smiling anymore. His eyes were so wide she could see how his sclera were shot through with red. His voice increased in volume with every word. "You Witches always have your wands, don't you? I look at you wrong and suddenly I'm growing tentacles, or I can't move, or you've blasted me into the yard. So where's your wand, Witch? Where's your damned wand!"

He moved to grab her again but Petunia ducked, pushed him. He lost his balance and hit the fridge as she had earlier. Petunia did not waste time and wait for him to fall. She ran for the kitchen door, leaving her supplies behind her. By the time she had it open, Mr. Snape was laughing. She did not care. She tore down the back steps, through the garden gate, and into the yard. She was so intent on getting away that she did not notice Severus standing in the driveway until she collided with him and sent them both sprawling to the sidewalk.

She hit the concrete hard, skinning one knee and both hands as she tried to break her fall. Severus fell backwards. He propped himself up with both hands and stared at her, lip curled.

"Evans!" he said. "What the hell are you doing?"

She was breathing so hard she couldn't speak. She wanted to shout at him that it was none of his concern, or to go away, or maybe to set himself on fire and take his horrible family with him. Later, when she was alone in her room, she would think that perhaps it was better that she didn't get the chance. Because at that moment, the sound of Mr. Snape's laughter carried to them, and Severus' expression instantly changed.

His eyes, glinting black in the sunlight, swept over her, then flicked to the open door of Mrs. Vandercamp's house. It did not take him long to work out what had happened. "Did he hurt you?" he said.

Petunia nodded. Severus' eyes seemed to grow darker, even in the bright sunlight. He pushed himself to his feet, and grabbed Petunia by the arm to pull her upright before she could protest.

"Go home. I'll take care of him."

"Are you mad?" She blurted. "He'll kill you if you go in there!"

He looked at her as if she'd grown another head. Petunia felt her face grow hot. Where did that come from?

"He hasn't killed me yet."

"I'm calling the police," she said, but he shook his head.

"They're all his friends. They won't help. Go home."

He shoved her lightly, and as she twisted to maintain her footing, he took off at a brisk walk for Mrs. Vandercamp's kitchen door. She heard him slam it behind him.

What was he thinking? He couldn't use his wand during the summer, especially against his own father. He was just as skinny as Petunia, and only a little shorter besides. There was no way he could beat him with physical force. As many times as she'd fantasized about Severus getting knocked around in retaliation for all the wrongs he'd done her, she suddenly found that when faced with the reality of the situation, she very much did not want to be party to his untimely murder.

So, she turned on her heels and ran for home.

Mr. Evans was home for lunch. When she came bursting in the door with the story of Mr. Snape's attack on her and that he was about to kill his son in Mrs. Vandercamp's kitchen, her father told her to stay home while he looked into the situation. He called their mother to see if she could come home early that day and made sure that Petunia was safe in her room and that her wounds were clean before he set off for the scene of the crime. Petunia knew that her father, at least, could take Mr. Snape in a fight. Though a gentle man by nature, he was large and burly, and had once tossed a twenty foot log headlong into a creek when egged on by some of his mates from the department store.

The clock on her vanity ticked as the minutes passed. It was the only thing she could hear.

After a half hour, her father returned home. Her mother followed shortly. She overheard them talking downstairs about what had happened. When Mr. Evans arrived at Mrs. Vandercamp's house, there was no sign of either Snape. Even the vase that Petunia had broken was sitting, whole, on the kitchen island where she'd initially left it. Mr. Evans had retrieved Petunia's cleaning supplies and told his wife that he meant to pop by the Snapes' home for a chat. She heard her mother tell him to be careful, and then the door opened and shut again.

Mrs. Evans checked to see if her daughter needed anything, then asked if she wanted to come downstairs to sit with her while she made her a nice lunch. Petunia shook her head. She didn't want to leave her room. The thought of her father returning with the news that Mr. Snape had killed his son and had in turn been strangled to death by her vengeful father made her want to hide forever or throw up or both. Her mother assured her that wasn't likely to happen and promised to bring her some sandwiches.

A few more minutes passed and there was a knock at Petunia's door.

Petunia swallowed her dread. "Come in," she said.

It was Lily. Her face was completely white. Without saying anything, without waiting for Petunia to protest, she marched up to the bed and hugged her tight. Petunia hugged her back.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Me too," said Lily.

When Mr. Evans came back that afternoon, he looked grim. He believed Petunia, but Mrs. Snape swore that her husband had been at home all day, sleeping. He was still sleeping, in fact, and mightn't it be best if Mr. Evans came back later to chat? Even Severus wouldn't say anything when Mr. Evans asked. Instead, he stood a small distance away from his mother, one hand in his pocket and his eyes fixed at some point to the left of the door. Mr. Evans had tried the police, but without evidence, they said, there was nothing they could do. It was just as Severus said; they insisted that Mr. Snape would never hurt a fly, and that Petunia had surely confused him for one of the many vagrants that Mrs. Vandercamp insisted on inviting into her home.

Mrs. Evans was not willing to let this go unpunished. In a week, the entire neighborhood knew that Mr. Snape had attacked one of the Evans girls. He was barred from the Pious Priest and from Mrs. Vandercamp's hospitality as a consequence, and met more than a few cold shoulders from people who had once been friendly to him. It was a mild punishment, but it was all Cokeworth could offer.

The next time she saw Severus, she did not insult him as she normally would. Neither did he attack her. It was a cold truce, but it was all either was willing to give.

Petunia no longer hated him. She supposed she never really did.


	4. August 1973

**August 1973**

Petunia kept on with her cleaning service for another week before an unsigned envelope stuffed full of money arrived in the Evans' mailbox. It was addressed to Petunia. There was just enough there to cover the remaining cost of her trip with Poinsettia.

Mr. Evans was sure it was Mrs. Vandercamp who did it. Mrs. Evans thought that it might have been the patrons down at the Pious Priest. Petunia didn't agree.

"They're a bunch of raucous old barflys, even if they do feel guilty, which they probably don't." she said to Lily, as they watched Top of the Pops one evening. "They'd want credit. Mrs. Vandercamp's kind enough but she does it for attention, so it can't be her either."

"That's a bit unkind," said Lily, but she said it with a fond smile.

Petunia smiled back. She had missed Lily terribly. Even her mild admonishments. "It's true. You should hear her at the grocery store. She talks the poor cashier's ear off about all the charitable works she does with her church for at least a quarter hour every time."

"I think that it might have been Mum and Dad, and they're just pretending it was from someone else. They probably feel bad about…" she stopped and bit her lip. On the television, Led Zepplin's "Whole Lotta Love" played. Lily looked at the title card for Top of the Pops appear and disappear, then turned back to her sister. "Well, they feel terrible."

Petunia sighed. "They don't need to. It's not their fault."

"Even so. I bet it's them."

Petunia didn't agree, but she didn't see any reason to continue with the subject. Her suspicions were too ludicrous to even voice, and they'd already exhausted all the other options. Lily could very well be right. It didn't make any sense, otherwise.

Still. Only the night before the envelope appeared, Petunia had been sure she'd seen a tall, thin woman skulking about their yard from her bedroom window. The night had been moonless and the streetlights were all inexplicably dim, so she hadn't been able to identify the prowler, but she had definitely seen someone. As to who it was… well. That would be impossible, so why think about it? And she could not ever see herself summoning up the nerve to ask.

* * *

The first week of August was lovely and mild and Petunia's trip to the Lake Country was steeped in breathtaking scenery. She'd never seen such wild country outside of the trip to Hogwarts. The lakes were all blue and green and sunkissed and the trees and hills were as tall and wild as the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. There was much ado about Poinsettia and her friends in Broughton-in-Furness, which turned out to be a Wizarding village, to Petunia's delight. Poinsettia's had been every bit as wealthy as she had described, and they insisted on throwing a party in their cousin's honor while she and her friends were in town. For two nights, Petunia chatted with more adult Witches and Wizards than she ever had in her life. One butterbeer-soaked evening, she'd even danced with a boy her age. He'd kissed her cheek when the dance was through. Circe teased Petunia about it until they left.

But it was not as much fun as she'd hoped it would be. Every time Anita brought up someone from school, Poinsettia would discuss all the things about them that made them inferior. Petunia found that this activity wasn't as enjoyable to her as it once was. What was the point in lambasting someone's flaws when they weren't even around to defend themselves? Petunia was sick at the thought that people may be spending their time talking this way about her.

Several times, Anita tried to bring up Lily or Severus, but Petunia always found a way to refocus the subject on someone else. Potter and his gang were useful targets, as well as Olivia Wilde and Professor Slughorn. When abusing Wilde failed, Slughorn always succeeded in redirecting Poinsettia's ire. She'd never forgiven him for not inviting her to join the Slug Club.

"And me, so well-connected!" she huffed, her bright red nails tapping irritably on the rim of her teacup.

"He'll invite you this year for sure," said Anita. She patted Poinsettia's hand. "I imagine he wanted to wait until he was certain about your aunt's fortunes before he took the risk."

That had been the wrong thing to say. Poinsettia's eyes jerked into incredulous circles. "There's nothing to be sure about! I'm the one he should be paying attention to, not her! Who else can brew a Forgetfulness Potion without having to look up the ingredients! Who else knows as much as I do about people!"

"I only meant-"

"You only meant he'd only want me for her sake, not mine." She brought her hand to her mouth and chewed on her knuckle. She often did this when she was upset.

"No," said Anita. Her eyebrows were arched so high they disappeared under her fringe. "No, I never meant that at all. It's your aunt, she's been taking a lot of risks lately, and that's what's kept him from you, not any fault of yours."

Though Poinsettia would never admit it, Anita was correct. Petunia followed the news very closely, and there were scattered reports that the undersecretary's political leanings as of late were moving towards anti-Muggle sentiment. She'd been seen twice recently in the company of Augustus Rookwood, and once served as chaperon to the young Malfoy heir on his latest visit to the Ministry. Slughorn was a blowhard and an ambitious man, but he would not associate himself with the ilk of known Muggle-haters. That was probably why Petunia had trouble hating him.

"That's right," said Circe. "You're talented and smart and pretty and he's just an old drunk."

She elbowed Petunia under the table. Petunia quickly looked up from the tablecloth and saw Poinsettia staring pointedly at her.

"Yes!" she nearly squeaked. She cleared her throat. "Yes. Circe's right. Slughorn's a fat, pompous has-been who can't see past the end of a crystalized pineapple. If he can't see what he's missing then he's not worth your time. If- _when_ he asks you to join the Slug Club, tell him to go jump in the lake and kiss the giant squid."

Poinsettia smiled at that. Circe giggled nervously. Anita asked Poinsettia what Padriac had done for her birthday, and the subject was changed to romance and moonlit boat rides and how wonderful it was that Padriac and Poinsettia were together.

When the trip ended, and Petunia took the Smith family's Ministry-approved portkey back to Cokeworth, she wished she knew why she felt so relieved.

* * *

Diagon Alley was vibrant. Posters decorated every other window, proclaiming support for the Appleby Arrows or the Wimbourne Wasps in their upcoming match. Streamers in the teams' colors, black and yellow or pale blue and silver, magically floated above the cobbled streets. "BAG IT, BAGMAN!" flashed ostentatiously from several banners. Children decorated in rosettes chased each other on toy brooms and there was laughter or screaming or shouting coming from every pub. Petunia and Lily had to use their elbows to cut paths through the thick crowd to get to Madam Malkins or the Apothecary or Flourish and Blotts to pick up their school supplies for the year. A group of men in Wasp colors roared in celebration as the wireless they were gathered around proclaimed another goal in their team's favor. The noise was deafening.

How Petunia hated Quidditch.

"We've only got one thing left," she panted, and marked off "Wand Polish" from their shopping list. Lily had improvised a shelter from the tide of people behind a rainbarrel. It was full, so it wasn't at any risk of someone accidentally knocking it over onto them. Though with the way things were going for the Wasps, Petunia was not sure that the barrel wouldn't soon be magically dumped over the heads of the nearest Arrows fans. "We're heading to the Apothecary next."

Lily nodded, a determined glint in her eyes. "Right. Get behind me. I'm going in."

Petunia tucked the shopping list back into her purse, grabbed their bags, and fell in line behind Lily. Her elbows were deadly. More than a few kids who'd dared call her "ginger" back in primary school had suffered bloodied noses due to their wrath. When Lily jabbed the nearest adult, a stocky man in a purple tricorner hat, he yelped and jumped sideways.

"Sorry!" shouted Lily. "I can't see where I'm going! Sorry! I'm just a little girl! Everyone's so tall! Sorry!"

The crowd parted before them.

"I hope your team wins!" Petunia said to anyone who looked at Lily in annoyance for more than a few seconds. "Really! Go Arrows!"

"I support the Wasps!" said one indignant woman in a yellow cloak.

"Go Wasps!" said Petunia, and scurried to catch up to Lily.

They arrived at the Apothecary a bit breathless, but unharmed. Lily spun around. Her cheeks were flushed and she was grinning in triumph.

"That was so much fun!"

"Fun for you," said Petunia.

"Oh yeah? Then why are you smiling?"

Petunia coughed into her fist as an excuse to school her features. When she looked up, she was all business.

"I'm not. I just had to cough. Here, you take the list. I'm going to go look at cauldrons."

Lily accepted the list, smirked, and saluted her sister. "Yes, captain!"

Petunia rolled her eyes. Lily laughed and trotted towards the horned slugs. Both of their kits were getting low on Potions ingredients. Lily had a better eye for Potions ingredients than Petunia, so she was perfectly content to let her do all the work. Besides, her cauldron was looking a bit droopy along the lip, and thanks to her anonymous donor, she had enough money left over from her summer job to replace it with a longer lasting one. She dodged a couple that was arguing about love potions and a group of children poking the flobberworms to get to the cauldron display, leaving Lily within earshot to dig through the common school kit ingredients.

She was deciding between the copper one and the silver one when the door chime jingled behind her. She looked idly over her shoulder to see if it was anyone from Hogwarts, then turned around in disgust.

It was Potter and his gang. All four of them. They were decked out in yellow and black. Potter and Black were arguing amongst themselves about their team's chance of going on to win the title that year. They wore what were obviously brand new, tailored robes and it appeared that Potter had new square spectacles. Lupin didn't appear to care much for their conversation, and was trying to chat with Pettigrew, who was himself attempting to interject into Potter and Black's verbal tennis match. Lupin, she noticed, had a few more patches in his robe than the last time she saw him. She had no idea what he did to put so many holes in his clothing, but she was sure it could be attributed to Potter and Black's combined influence.

It was a pity he wasn't a Ravenclaw. Everyone in the tower knew that he always scored well on his exams. If he had just been sorted into his proper house, he might not have met Potter and Black, and then he wouldn't have to spend so much time mending his clothes. Petunia was sure that he'd look handsome if he'd just smarten himself up a little.

Just then, Potter broke off his conversation with Black and grinned in what he thought was a very rakish manner. Petunia thought he looked like a buffon.

"Evans!" he said, his voice on octave higher than it had been. He leaned one elbow against the corner of the unicorn horn display. In an exaggeratedly casual tone, he added, "All right?"

Petunia knew it wasn't her he was greeting. Lily, elbow deep in beetle eyes, glared at him.

"What do you want?" she asked.

Potter glanced at Black, who snickered and elbowed Lupin in the ribs. Lupin, who had been rifling through a pile of discounted billywig stings, turned his attention to the others. They looked as interested in this exchange as the quidditch fans outside were in their game.

"Nothing!" said Potter. "I only wanted to say hello. You look great, by the way."

Lily pulled her arm out of the bucket of beetle eyes and threw a fistful of them into a paper bag. Glittery black eyes clung to half the length of her arm. Without shaking off her hand, she scratched her chin and left three long streaks of black grime there.

"Thanks," she said. "Goodbye."

She turned around to go, but Potter caught her by the wrist. The look she gave him could have melted glass, but he didn't quail. Petunia was begrudgingly impressed.

"Aw, come on," he said. "We're headed to Florean Fortescue's after this. He's got the game up on wireless and all quidditch fans are getting half off. Come along. I'll get you a rosette and buy you a sundae."

Lily yanked her hand free. "I'd rather eat a toad."

Black cackled. "We could arrange that. Right, Remus?"

Lupin shrugged. "Certainly. Though I'm not sure the quality of the toads here is up to the standards of human consumption. Perhaps the Menagerie would have a better selection?"

Peter bounced on his heels. "We'll buy one and make you eat it!"

Black snorted and rolled his eyes. "Leave the humor to the professionals, eh Peter?"

Potter's lip twitched. "Come off it, Evans. Snivellus isn't even here."

"It doesn't matter if he's here or not. You're still a bigheaded blowhard."

Petunia cracked a smile. As insults went, it wasn't exactly cutting. But Potter looked so stunned by this that Black and Lupin both dissolved into laughter. Pettigrew joined them a few seconds later. Black slapped Potter on the back, nearly knocking off his glasses. He caught them and fumbled them back onto his nose. Both he and Lily were as red as her hair.

"Fine!" he said. "See if I ever invite you to ice cream again!"

"I don't want you to!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!" mocked Black, in a high-pitched voice.

The boys laughed again. Potter grabbed Black by the arm and dragged him out of the shop. Peter trotted after them like a toy dog. Only Lupin stayed behind.

"For what it's worth," he said, a slight smile playing at his lips, "James means well. You ought to take him up on that invitation."

Lily folded her arms and stared at the display of mistletoe berries to her left. "I'll talk to him when he apologizes to Severus."

Lupin smiled a little sadly. "Ah, well. That's something I fear we may never see. Good day, then, Lily. Petunia."

He nodded at Petunia. She started to wave, then stopped herself and pursed her lips disdainfully. He sighed. The shop door jangled behind him as he left to join his friends.

"Idiots," said Lily. She grabbed another paper bag and began cramming lionfish spines into it.

"Complete idiots," agreed Petunia. "Shall I hold the bag?"

"As if I'd go out with him," seethed Lily. She snatched another spine, glowered at it, and threw it in with the others.

"You're going to prick yourself if you're not careful."

"Bleeding Potter and his bleeding stupid…" she searched for a few seconds. "Hair! Ouch!"

A bead of blood erupted from her palm. One of the spines had pricked her there when she'd squeezed it a little too hard. Petunia tutted and took out her handkerchief. She pressed it to Lily's palm. The blood wicked up the white cloth like a fishtail.

"I told you to be careful," she said.

"I was!" said Lily. She cringed. "Ow. Ow!"

"You were not. Where does it hurt?"

"It's in my wrist now."

Petunia sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. "You've been poisoned. Stay here. I'm going to get the shopkeep. She'll have an antidote prepared. Don't suck on it."

Lily nodded. She was a little white, and her hand shook when she held it out in front of her. Petunia found the clerk shooing the children away from the flobberworms. When she reported the situation, the old woman scolded the both of them for their thoughtlessness and reached into her robe for the antidote.

"Really, now!" she said. "There's a reason why we provide protective gloves! I expect better from Hogwarts students! Show me your hand, child."

She carefully poured a drop of the antidote onto Lily's hand, which had turned bright purple. In seconds, a stream of green smoke rose rise from the wound, leaving an odor of sea salt and a smooth patch of skin behind it. Petunia thanked the woman for her kindness.

"You can thank me by looking after your sister better in the future," she said with an imperious glare, and swept over to the unicorn horns to stop a young man from putting them in his pockets.

Petunia glared at her retreating back. What did she know? She'd told Lily to be careful. It wasn't her fault that Lily didn't choose to listen to her. Petunia was willing to bet her entire collection of scrub-brushes that she was an only child.

"Rude old bat. Come on, Lily. Let's pay for our things and leave."

Lily didn't answer. She was pressing her hand to her chest with her eyes squeezed shut.

"It still hurts," she whispered.

The indignation in Petunia's chest melted like summer snow. "I'll take care it," she said. "Leave everything here and go sit outside. Stay in sight. I'll be there soon."

Lily didn't argue. She nodded and threaded her way to the door. Petunia watched her take up a position in front of the great window that read "APOTHECARY" in giant green letters before she was satisfied that Lily wasn't going anywhere.

She paid for the ingredients with someone other than the condescending old woman and gathered up all the day's purchases to join Lily.

"How's your hand?" asked Petunia.

"Better," said Lily, though the color hadn't fully returned to her face. "Can we sit down somewhere?"

"Of course. Follow me."

The crowd was still as thick as it had been before they entered the shop. Petunia made her way through by using their shopping bags as bludgeoning weapons. They received fewer admonishments that way, but it was slower going. They were soon across the road at a small cafe. Petunia ushered Lily into one of the plush orange chairs that lined the sidewalk and ordered her a cup of peppermint tea. In about ten minutes, Lily reported the pain was mostly gone.

"Thanks," she said. "And sorry."

"I did warn you," Petunia said, as she fussed with the bag of books from Flourish and Blotts. She scooped the change from the apothecary out of the bottom where she'd hastily thrown it earlier, dropped it into her coin purse, and snapped it shut. "I wish you'd listen sometimes."

Lily sighed. "I listen! I was just so mad. I don't know why Potter thinks..." she shook her head. "He's such a bully, Tuney. You should see him with Sev. Him and Black, they curse him because it's _fun_. Lupin's just as bad because he doesn't stop them. And Peter just laughs."

For some reason, Petunia thought of Poinsettia in the Great Hall, the day she got her locket from Padriac Haversham.

"It isn't Lupin's responsibility to stop his friends being idiots."

"He should at least say something. If they're his friends, they'll stop."

"What if he can't say anything?"

Lily gave Petunia a puzzled look. "Why shouldn't he? They're his friends. They won't stop being his friend just because he tells them not to pick on people."

Petunia thought of Poinsettia's smile, Anita's nervous giggle, Pettigrew's wide-eyed anxiety, and Black's barking laugh. She pushed Lily's empty teacup with one finger, making it rattle in its saucer.

"Do you really think so?" she said. "No one likes being told they're wrong. Not about anything. Not even friends."

"I say things to Sev all the time and he doesn't get mad and ditch me."

Petunia raised one eyebrow. "And he listens to you?"

Lily's chair shook as she curled up into it, knees to her chest. She hugged her legs and propped her chin on her knees.

"Sometimes," she said.

A resounding cheer went up through Diagon Alley. Here and there, groans could be heard amidst the wild celebration from disappointed Appleby fans, but their misery was utterly overshadowed by the rapture of the victorious Wasp supporters. People hugged each other. The rainbarrel from earlier was duly emptied onto several people's heads. One Wimbourne fan threw a package onto the ground that erupted into thousands of magically stingless wasps. Then a storm of yellow and black confetti erupted from every open window. Bits of it landed in the dredges of Lily's drink.

"If they chuck him for saying they're wrong, they aren't very good friends," she said.

"No," said Petunia. She picked confetti from her hair, and her fingers brushed the bow that held it all in place. "They're not, are they?"


	5. December 1973

**December 1973**

The Winter of 1973 hit the Muggle world hard. The energy crisis caused layoffs, strikes, and long, hard weeks of no electricity for the Evans family. Mrs. Evans wrote her daughters that she'd been without heat at the factory for three days out of the week and everyone was tired of working in the dark and cold. The union at her factory was considering striking as well in solidarity with the coal miners' union if the crisis went on for much longer. Mr. Evans suffered as well; all the shops had been ordered to cut their electricity during the day to save on energy. He'd taken to wearing fingerless gloves and a huge overcoat to work. Mrs. Evans included a photograph. Petunia and Lily, comfortable and a bit guilty in front of their respective common room fires, separately concluded that he looked like Bob Cratchit and decided to bring home a few jarred fires for the Holidays.

Hogwarts made do as best it could. A few Muggle-born children went home early to help their families get through the winter, and there were rumors going around that many of them may not return if the situation remained dire. Headmaster Dumbledore made arrangements to ensure those students' safe return to their school, should they wish it, at any time.

This couldn't have been easy for him, Petunia thought. The Magical world was going through a crisis of its own. The huge tariff hike on imported broom-wood caused a catastrophic government tangle between the Ministry and its main suppliers on the continent. Broom handles skyrocketed in price. Witches and Wizards who relied on them for transport could not get them replaced when they failed. The flying charm could only be renewed so many times before the natural wear and tear on the broom itself made it unfit to fly. Splinching became an epidemic. The hospitals could not keep up. When a teenage boy died before he could be tended by a Healer, the Ministry reacted by raising the minimum age of Apparition from 15 to 17. This was regarded as a weak response by the Magical community at large. The Minister for Magic was unlikely to serve another term, the way things stood. Still, in the midst of this chaos, Dumbledore had somehow managed to twist the school attendance law in his favor. No one knew how he'd done it.

Even the weather was as foreboding as a whisper of dementors. Thick, silent snow fell on the castle grounds as Petunia and the other fourth year Ravenclaws walked from the Greenhouse. The snowflakes seemed to cast a blanket on sound, so that any conversation was muffled and tinny, even when the speakers were walking closely together. It was as if everyone was surrounded by a thin sheet of glass.

Still, conversation carried on, in spite of silencing snow and the crunch of boots on ice. The topic that day was the news.

_The Daily Prophet_ had just released a story on another string of murders, this time in Wales. A locally renowned Medi-Witch had been found dead in her office that week, shortly after another Healer had been killed in Maes-yr-Uchaf Wood while collecting samples of wood-sorrel. A third death had just occurred that day. This time the victim was a maker of magical spectacles, rumored to have made the very same half-moon glasses that Dumbledore wore. The Aurors were treating the murders as serial crimes, thanks to the methods by which each victim had been killed, and because each of them had two traits in common: they were all Muggle-born, and they had all spoken out against Lord Voldemort.

Lord Voldemort and his followers, a group of people called the Death Eaters, had suddenly risen in power almost a decade previous. Though the group claimed to exist only for the advancement of all the Magical communities of the world, anyone who spoke against them often disappeared. No one had been able to prove that it was them, much less their leader. But this was not the first time a group of Muggle-born people had been murdered since Voldemort came to power five years previous. Nor was it the first time someone who had spoken out against him disappeared. And far too many students were not visibly upset at the news for Petunia's liking.

Things were changing in the Magical world, and Petunia was afraid of it.

"Don't be paranoid," Billiam McTufty told her when she admitted this to her classmates. "The Aurors'll sort it out soon. They're the best dark-wizard catchers in the world."

"But what if it's the Death Eaters?" asked Akeelah Pango. Her large brown eyes were wide as galleons. Snow clung to her densely curled hair. "No one even knows who they are. How can they catch someone who wears a mask?"

"They look for the mask, for a start," said Petunia.

Akeelah glared. "You know what I mean!"

"But what if it's more than just them?" added Mako Yamada. "What if it's _him_?"

The students exchanged dark looks. There was no question of who Yamada meant. McTufty drew himself up like a very important pigeon.

"Him? Don't be daft," he said. "He talks about blood purity and protecting our own, but no one believes that stuff nowadays. Maybe in our parents' time, but we're more enlightened now. There's legislation against that kind of thing. And thank goodness for that!" He gave Petunia what he clearly thought was a sympathetic smile. "Anyway, the Aurors have investigated him enough that it's pretty clear that he's not killing anyone. It's ludicrous to even consider it. You mark my words: this is the work of a single, random madman. They'll catch him soon and then you'll see that all this worrisome speculation was just that: speculation."

"It's not speculation!" insisted Akeelah. "It's an examination of the facts! We have the right to be scared!"

Billiam sighed, reached out, and patted Akeelah's hand. She gave him an incredulous look, which he completely ignored. "Akeelah, please, be reasonable. I never said you were wrong for being afraid. I simply pointed out that there's no sign that this hasn't been done by a lone lunatic."

"She's being perfectly reasonable," snapped Petunia. "Anyone who speaks out against him disappears. It's not as if they're being abducted by pixies."

He shrugged. "Not everyone does. Dumbledore's is still around, and Bartemius Crouch is still going on about him every time he steps outside. What I'm telling you is that without proof, anyone could have done it. Pinning it all on one public figure is illogical."

"It's a clear case of cause and effect," said Mako. "No one's proven anything, but the implications are obvious to anyone willing to pay attention."

Billiam bowed. "We shall simply have to agree to disagree."

"Don't make me laugh," said Petunia, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, what do you care? You're a Pureblood. You'll never have to worry about anyone murdering you for your blood status."

McTufty held up one finger and waved it like a conductor's baton. "Not true! Purebloods face constant persecution from Muggle-borns! There's no pressure on you to live up to the family name, for one. And you get all kinds of perks that we don't get! Why, my father interviewed for a position at a research firm last year and he didn't get it because they had some hiring quota on Lowbloods, _even though he was more qualified_!"

He smirked as if he'd just won the argument. Petunia, Akeelah, and Mako gave him disgusted looks. His smirk faded.

"And… um, a few Purebloods were killed by rioters during the Squib Rights Marches five years ago. And they're always the first targets whenever there's a Goblin revolt."

"Did you seriously just compare being murdered to not getting a job?" asked Mako.

"No! That's not what I meant at all! I was merely saying I understand where you're coming fr-"

Petunia cut him off. "You couldn't possibly understand what life is like for Muggle-borns, so don't even try."

Billiam went splotchy in the face. "The fact is that Purebloods suffer too! Maybe if you weren't so defensive I'd take what you have to say more seriously!"

"Are you stupid as well as blind!"

"I'm not stupid! I'm a Ravenclaw!"

"Good luck proving that one!" shouted Petunia.

She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and stomped through the open castle doors. She had homework to do, and she was not going to waste any of her precious time talking to an idiot. She heard McTufty sputtering behind her as she stomped her way to the library, and could not help a backwards glance.

"See? Do you see what she did?" Billiam turned to Mako. "She just insulted me! I never insulted her and yet I'm the one who's expected to-"

She didn't wait around to hear the end of his sentence. She turned and marched into an oncoming crowd of chattering Hufflepuffs and drowned him out. She could not stand listening to him spout that drivel anymore. Oh, it certainly wasn't the first time she'd heard something like that. When she was a first year, she was the victim of a long lecture on why Squibs and Muggle-borns didn't deserve special rights and why Purebloods were the real victims in the struggles between the classes. Then, she hadn't known how to respond with anything but a gaping expression, and she hadn't enough background in Magical society to agree or disagree. But she learned quickly enough that some Magical folk, whether they espoused equality or not, were not willing to take her as seriously as her Pureblooded fellows.

It was the little things, really, that bothered her the most. One of her classmates, a Pureblooded girl named Tanzy who loved to gossip, always made a special fuss over Petunia's work in Charms. She would make sure she had the attention of Flitwick, and then proclaim how amazing it was that Petunia was so talented, even though she was entirely new to magic. She still did this, even though her own work was well below Petunia's level. And Professor Slughorn was always so surprised when she did well in Potions. Granted, she was only mediocre at the subject, but his astonishment rankled her in a way that left her annoyed for the rest of the day.

Petunia overheard Severus telling Lily once that blood-status didn't matter. She knew even then that it had been a lie. But she could not bear to keep her sister from believing it.

She was nearly to the library when she ran into Anita and Circe outside the door of the girls' restroom. They were whispering to one another and glancing around as if looking for someone. When they spotted Petunia, Circe smiled like a jack-o-lantern.

"Petunia!" chirped Circe. "There you are! We've been looking for you for ages!"

Petunia couldn't help a slight frown. "You know I have double Herbology Thursdays."

Circe giggled. "I know, but we were dying to find you. Weren't we, Anita?"

Anita nodded. Her curls bobbed smoothly around her face. "Oh, yes. We've got news. We wanted you to hear it from us first, before it spreads around the school. You know how these things are."

Petunia's eyes widened. Spread around? It had to be bad news. Was it Lily? Had something happened to her parents? Was she about to be expelled? Had someone started a rumor about her?

"What? What is it?"

Anita and Circe looked at each other and started laughing. Whatever it was, it was apparently too hilarious for them to contain themselves. Petunia resisted the urge to hex them for it. She was growing more anxious by the second. If she'd been in a better mood, she'd have simply begged them to stop teasing her. As it was, she did not have the patience.

"Stop that," she snapped. "What happened?"

They continued giggling for a few more seconds. It was Anita who finally told her. Circe was too busy wiping tears from her eyes.

"Your sister and Severus Snape got invited to Slug Club _right in front of Poinsettia!_"

They started laughing again. Petunia had to touch the wall to stop herself from falling over.

"Oh, Merlin," she whispered.

"He didn't even look at her," said Anita. "She just stood there talking about her aunt to poor Padriac while Slughorn went on and on about how your sister and her friend were the best Potioneers he'd ever seen. Then she tried to compliment him on his bowtie and he called her… he called her…"

Anita broke down into fits of laughter again. Circe was glad to pick up the slack.

"He called her Pepper!"

"Oh no, no, no," Petunia groaned. She buried her face in her hands. "This is awful. This is so, so awful."

Circe nodded, though her continual giggles didn't make her appear entirely sympathetic to Petunia's plight. Petunia looked up from her hands and glared.

"It's not funny," she said. "If she knew you were laughing at her like this she'd be livid."

"She's already livid," said Anita with a wave of her hand. She smiled at Petunia, all traces of laughter gone from her eyes. "And not at us."

Petunia went pale. "But I didn't do anything."

"Blood will tell," said Anita.

Petunia took a step backward. Though Anita was still smiling, there was nothing comforting in her face. She looked as if she'd been carved out of bloodstone. Petunia looked to Circe instead, hoping to find something there she could cling to. Circe frowned, opened her mouth, and then closed it. She shook her head.

"I've never seen her angry. Best stay out of the way for a while. We'll make excuses for you at dinner."

Petunia nodded. "Thank you."

"Go on, then. Get to the library before she sees you."

"Thank you so much," Petunia said, and walked as fast as she could towards the library doors.

"Be sure and congratulate your sister for me!" Anita called.

Petunia didn't answer. She ran now, Anita's avian laugh echoing in the corridor behind her.

* * *

The holiday break had never been so welcome in coming. Avoiding Poinsettia was more difficult than Petunia thought it would be. She was always in her usual place in the Great Hall at dinners, as bubbly and grand as ever. She also abruptly decided to take up residence in the Ravenclaw common room every night, so Petunia always had to pass her and Anita and Circe when she came back from class in the evenings. They would exchange pleasantries, and Poinsettia would lament the fact that Petunia was always tied up in homework during their dinners these days, but she did not invite Petunia to sit with her by the fire, and took to smiling at Petunia pointedly until she made her excuses for the evening. It was only a week, but it was a week that Petunia hoped never to repeat.

On the Hogwarts Express, Petunia found herself with no one to share a compartment with. Poinsettia did not invite her to the seventh year car as usual and everyone she tried to join said theirs was full, though only Mako and Akeelah seemed to be sorry for it. She was sure that this was somehow related to the slight Lily had unintentionally done to Poinsettia.

It wasn't fair, she thought, as she trudged into the third-year car to try her luck with the underclassmen. She was always being compared to Lily. It wasn't her fault her sister was some kind of Potions genius. Merlin knew that she wished for that skill every time she burned a Wit-Sharpening Potion or switched horned slugs with pickled slugs.

Perhaps that was why Slughorn had never noticed her, thought Petunia. It didn't matter that she was the best in her class at Charms, or knew more about the Professors and students of Hogwarts than even Argus Filch. She wasn't good at the right thing.

Lucky for Lily that she shone where it counted. Unlucky for Petunia that the she didn't.

The wheel on her pink roller bag caught in the carpet under her feet. Petunia let out a long-suffering sigh and bent to unstick it. As she was did this, a group of excited first years pushed past her, knocking her into the nearest compartment.

She stumbled inelegantly through the half-open door, hitting it with her hip. It slammed open.

"Don't run in the corridors!" she shouted after the first years. "It's against the rules! I ought to report you to your prefect!"

The first years looked at one another with mingled expressions of amusement and horror and took off running faster than before. Their voices as they shouted to each other mingled with the rattle of the train like squeaking brakes.

Petunia huffed and smoothed down her robes. _Children_.

"I'm sorry," she said. She turned to face whoever it was she'd burst in on. "I- oh. It's you."

It was Severus Snape. Petunia hadn't seen him since the summer, before her trip to the Lake Country, and after… she wasn't going to think about that. He was not alone. His companion, a skinny, dark-haired boy that Petunia recognized as Regulus Black, snickered behind his hand. He was small and lithe, and he had his brother's arrogant smirk and gray eyes. She didn't see what was so funny.

Severus nodded at her. "Evans."

She pressed her lips together. "I'm not here on purpose," she said.

Severus raised one eyebrow. "Your method of entrance didn't suggest otherwise."

Regulus snickered again. Petunia folded her arms across her chest and glowered at him.

"Believe me, I don't intend to stay."

"No, please, do," insisted Regulus, leaping to his feet. Severus and Petunia both regarded him with some alarm. "Surely all the compartments are full by now. Don't waste your time begging for a seat. Come, sit with us. We've got room to spare."

Petunia and Severus looked at each other, then spoke at the same time.

"I don't think-"

"It isn't necessary for you-"

"Nonsense!" he said, snapping the door shut behind her. He took her luggage, which he hoisted into the racks above their heads. "There! A house elf couldn't have done it better. Sit!"

He sprawled into the seat across from Severus and gestured to the empty spot next to him. Petunia balked.

"No, really, I'll just find-"

"Too late! I've already taken your bags. You've got no choice unless you want to besmirch the honor of my entire house. We're very ancient and noble, you know. Or so my mother keeps reminding me."

"You're a twit," said Snape.

Regulus laughed. Petunia was surprised at this. If Severus had called her a twit in that tone, she'd have probably hexed him.

"And you're a sour old bat who doesn't know how to have fun. But don't let's argue. We're neglecting our guest. Please, Ms. Evans. Sit down."

He gestured to the seat beside Severus again. For a moment, Petunia seriously considered running. He probably wouldn't curse her. He was foppish and annoying and at least two years younger than her, but he didn't seem easily insulted. If he was friends with Severus, she doubted anything could insult him.

But she was very tired of walking around the train. And as mixed up as her feelings were about Severus, she at least wouldn't be alone with him. She doubted she'd even have to talk to him.

"All right. I will," she pronounced. "Thank you for your hospitality."

Petunia swept over to the seat next to Severus in a flutter of robes. They glared at one another for a moment, and then broke off to look out the window and at the wall, respectively. Across from them, Regulus grinned.

"This is excellent. This is really excellent. Chocolate frog?"

He proffered a package at her. She took it from him and began tugging at the wrapper. He offered one to Severus, but he declined. Her fingers slipped and tore through the foil faster than she'd intended. Her frog flew onto the table. With a thick croak, it hopped toward the door. Regulus reached out and caught it in midair.

"Stay sharp!" he said, tossing it back to her. She caught it in her lap. "You've got to have fast reflexes for these things. Is this the first time you've had one?"

Petunia shook her head. "Lily bought some off the refreshment cart her first year." She broke a piece off into her mouth. The frog went rigid, the charm that powered it deactivated with her first bite. "The first one she opened got away from her and jumped down the front of Tanzy Tully's robe."

Beside her, Severus made a quiet noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. She turned to him. When he saw her looking at him, the smile on his face disappeared.

"Did Lily tell you about it?"

Severus gave the barest hint of a shrug. "She told me Tully went hysterical and stripped naked trying to get it off her."

Regulus missed his next bite of frog. "Naked? Are you joking?"

"Have you ever known me to?"

Regulus laughed so hard at this that Petunia couldn't help but smile as well. She felt the tension in her lower back ease a little. This wasn't so bad.

"If she'd just held still I'd have used a freezing charm on the thing and been done with it. Tanzy's never been keen on Lily since."

Severus frowned at that. "Stupid reason to dislike someone."

"I don't know," said Regulus. He put one hand in his pocket and looked out the window. "Seems people don't need much of a reason to hold a grudge. They get mad and they decide they hate someone and don't even remember why after a while. They just hate. It's not sensible. It is what it is."

Petunia drew back a little into her seat. That sounded like something Dumbledore would say, not Regulus Black, favored youngest child of the haughty and insular Black family. She looked at Severus, who apparently agreed with her. His mouth was slightly open.

"Have you been reading novels again?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Regulus turned from the window and grinned that toothy grin of his. "Does it show?"

Severus relaxed. "You couldn't hide it if you tried."

The boys began insulting each other again. Petunia was happy to let them do it. The more they ignored her, the better. She folded her empty chocolate frog foil into a square, making sure to set the card aside before she did it. Someone would want it before long, judging from the stack of them next to Regulus. She pulled her wand out of her pocket.

"_Pergamenum decoco,_" she muttered, running the tip of it around the edges of the square.

The wrapper rippled, then fused together at the edges. She smiled. There. That was far neater than a ripped and mangled package. Crumpled things were among Petunia's least favorite sights. It made her a bit nauseous to see them sometimes.

"Where'd you get that, anyway?" she heard Regulus ask.

She looked up. He was waiting for her to answer. She glanced down to the foil, then back to him.

"I didn't get it anywhere. I used a spell I've been working on with-"

"No, no," said Regulus. "Not that. I watched you do that; well done. Where'd you get _that_? Your wand."

She frowned and held it up. "I… got it at Ollivander's when I was 11. Didn't you?"

"Of course _I_ did," he scoffed. "I'm a Pureblood."

Petunia drew her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him, raising her wand just a little. "What, exactly, do you mean by that?"

The grin on Regulus's face wavered. His eyes went from Petunia to Severus, and then back to Petunia.

"Well, you're Muggle-born, aren't you?" He tilted his head towards her. "Your parents wouldn't have known how to get to Diagon Alley. Did you have to steal it from someone, or what?"

The question was so absurd that Petunia nearly forgot to be offended.

Nearly.

She shot to her feet, fists balled, and towered over him. "_I beg your pardon?" _

Regulus shrank back into his seat. He held up both hands, palms outward, supplicating.

"Sorry! Sorry! Please don't be mad! That's just what my Mum's always told me! 'Be careful with your wand, Reg, or a Mu-'" He twitched as if stung. "'Or a Muggle-born will steal it and take your magic away!' I just thought… since you were here… and talking to me…"

"_I didn't steal my magic_!" shouted Petunia. The lights in their compartment flickered. "How could you say that! How could you believe it! I was born with it, same as you!"

Regulus's ears were bright red. "That's not what- I only meant- I've never met a Muggle-born before, and I thought-"

She put her hands on her hips. "Now you're just making excuses. That can't possibly be true. You've been at Hogwarts for two years. Surely you've met at least one."

Petunia hadn't thought it possible, but Regulus's ears got even redder. He looked at the wall and mumbled something that Petunia was sure she would not like.

"What? What did you say?"

Regulus looked pleadingly at Severus, who was watching the exchange with an amused smirk. He shook his head.

"Yes, what did you say?" he asked.

Regulus threw up his hands. "She told me I couldn't talk to Muggle-borns, okay!"

Petunia felt her mouth fall open. "And you haven't? Not even once? Not even in your own house?"

Regulus gave Severus another desperate look. This time, Severus shifted in his seat, as if something were digging into his back. He sighed.

"If I must." He looked up at Petunia his arms still folded over his middle. He looked the very picture of a bored academic. If Petunia weren't waiting for him to explain, she'd have told him he looked ridiculous. "There aren't any Muggle-borns in Slytherin. It's part of the enchantment on the Sorting Hat. Surely the hat said something about it when you were sorted. It certainly didn't neglect to mention it when I was."

She remembered the trip across the lake, the nervousness and excitement as she and the other first years discussed what was going to happen, Tanzy's utter panic that she would be thrown out as unsortable, and the thrill that washed over her when the Sorting Hat began its song. Even then she'd thought Ravenclaw sounded like the best house. She could still remember the words as clear as if she were there: _Ravenclaw, a wise young witch, sought students with sure minds, intelligence, ability, and interest defined. _

She recalled Slytherin's rhyme as well.

"_Slytherin, a pureblood man, took those of wit like him,_" she recited. "_Ambitious ones and clever ones born into Wizard's kin." _She felt like she'd just been hit by a rock. She put one hand on the wall for support. "I thought that was a metaphor!"

"Unfortunately not, it would seem."

She glowered at him. "You're not exactly a Pureblood. If you can get in with your parentage surely there are others-"

Severus sprang up and faced her. "How dare you bring up my-"

"Please!" said Regulus, standing as well. "Please stop, I never meant to-"

"-outdated Pureblood nonsense, you'd have all died out-"

"-attacked us time and again! We had to-"

"-some questions, I wanted to know, that's all, I shouldn't have-"

"-wanted Lily in your house, you told her-"

"-private! You had no right to listen in on-"

There was a loud bang. All three of them stopped cold, as if they'd been doused with water. Lily stood in the doorway. A spiral of smoke wafted from the tip of her wand.

"I came to visit," she said.

Petunia felt as if she'd swallowed a flobberworm. From the looks of things, Regulus and Severus were experiencing similar sensations.

Lily pocketed her wand and slipped inside the compartment, closing the door behind her. "How'd you end up here, 'Tuney? I was looking for you."

"Some first years pushed me in," she said, quickly. "I never meant to stay, only Black made me."

Regulus nodded. He half-smiled at Petunia, but she ignored him.

Lily blinked. "I don't care that you're here. I'm surprised, that's all." She looked at Severus. "You still going with him for the holiday, then?"

Severus nodded. "I couldn't consider refusing the invitation."

Lily heaved a great sigh. "All right. You know I'll miss you. I was really hoping you'd come over for Christmas dinner this year."

He fidgeted a bit with his hands. "I wouldn't have missed it if I could. I'm sorry. Please give your parents my regards."

Of all the mad things in her life, Petunia never thought she'd hear Severus Snape say he was sorry about anything. But, she supposed, if he were going to apologize to anyone, it would be Lily.

"I'll give them your love, you stuffy coot." She nodded in Regulus's direction. "Take care of him for me, okay?"

Regulus nodded gravely. "Rest assured, we throw an excellent feast at Grimmauld Place. Kreacher makes excellent pudding," said Regulus. He stepped up to Lily and stuck out his hand. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Regulus. I hear you've been invited to the Slug Club."

Lily looked at his hand as if she were trying not to smile. Regulus just looked so serious. Finally, some internal battle was won, and she shook his proffered hand.

A tiny clattering went off in Petunia's head. "Wait. Wait. You're spending the holiday with _him_? But isn't Sirius going to be there? You _hate _Sirius."

"The feeling is entirely mutual, I'm sure."

Regulus rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling the hair there until it stood on end. "Ah... Sirius is going to be at Potter's, actually. Told my Mum a few days ago. Remember that howler yesterday? At dinner?"

Petunia hadn't been in the Great Hall then, but she'd heard from Tanzy that it was from his mother, and that it contained all the usual accusations of ungratefulness and insolence. She hadn't given it any thought after that. Sirius Black was always getting howlers. She made a mental note not to ignore any of them in the future.

"Yes," she said. "I'd forgotten."

He gave a boneless shrug. "We'll miss him at home but I think it's for the best. Mum's looking forward to meeting Severus. She thinks we might be third cousins."

"Oh."

The clattering of the train as it rambled on towards London filled the car. Regulus looked at the floor. Severus stared at Lily, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Petunia held her arm by the elbow. Lily scratched her chin.

"So what were you all fussing about?"

"Doesn't matter," said Regulus. "I said something stupid."

Lily laughed once. "Severus tells me you do that a lot. I hope Tuney wasn't too hard on you."

He cleared his throat and glanced at Petunia. "No."

There was a squeeze at the base of Petunia's tongue. She realized she still had her wand out. She tucked it into the inner pocket of her robe.

"Lily," she found herself saying. "Would it be all right if I joined you and your friends for lunch?"

"Sure!" Lily smiled, her eyes alight. "Of course you can! You know you're always welcome. Do you mind, Sev? Regulus?"

Severus made a non-committal noise. Regulus shook his head.

"That's okay. We just met anyway. We can finish getting to know each other some other time."

Severus covered his mouth with his hand and looked pointedly at the floor. Petunia shot Regulus a cold look.

"If circumstances permit it," she said. "Come on, Lily. We'll need to hurry to beat the lunch trolley."

"Okay. See you, Sev!" She waved to him. "And Regulus, nice meeting you!"

Petunia wrestled her bag free of the luggage rack and followed Lily out of the cabin and into the corridor. They made it one car down before Lily asked her about the fight she'd interrupted.

"So what were you really arguing about?"

"Black thinks Muggle-borns steal their wands from Purebloods."

Lily winced. "Ugh. That one's the worst."

Petunia jerked her head in surprise. "You've heard it before."

"Back at the end of first year I started I asked Sev to tell me all the awful things Purebloods think about Muggle-borns. He didn't want to at first, but I bothered him about it until he had to. Some of them were just... they were sick," She threw open the door to the next traincar with unusual force. "I'm surprised, though. Regulus doesn't seem like one of _those_Slytherins. Sev always told me he was really nice. Though he didn't say it like that."

Petunia pushed a puff of air through nose. "What did he say?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "He said he was a softhearted twit."

"Is there anything he does that isn't insulting?"

Lily laughed. "He is a bit prickly, isn't he?"

"Severus is 'a bit prickly'? How would you describe a fire crab? 'Somewhat warm'?"

Lily gave Petunia a light punch in the arm for that.

They were outside Lily's compartment now. She could hear her friends alternately chattering and laughing with one another. The laughter was robust and riotous, like butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks. It didn't sound a thing like the giggles she shared with her friends.

"Hey," said Lily, placing her hand on Petunia's upper arm. "Are you okay?"

Petunia covered her sister's hand with hers. "I'm fine. But I'd like to talk about it later. Okay?"

"Okay." She pulled Petunia into a quick hug. "Ready to go in?"

Petunia drew herself up. Her posture was perfect. Her hair was in place. Her robes were smooth.

"Ready," she said, and she and Lily walked into the compartment together.


End file.
